around the world ~ daft punk

around the world ~ daft punk, 1997

& its here.

moving day.

& i’m ready.

kpm ©


guru shit?

ever heard / seen a kid when they learn something new? how in awe they are?

this year isn’t what i had planned at.all.

actually moving out to live at the beach is turning out to not be what i expected at all.

reason: i’ve only ever used logic.

my logic.

analysis and logic have been my saviours & i am forever grateful for them.

guess what i don’t do well?

relaxing and going with the flow ffs.

so, it turns out that logically moving here was therapeutic. but not as i had expected or even planned for.

today i learned something new and was in awe, just like a kid.

short backstory:

i’ve been waiting / looking for a house for nearly a year. i’ve been packed up and ready to go for over 8 months. the stress its caused has been palpable.

about 9 months ago i kinda gave up. my interim plan was to ‘get well’ , or weller than i have been. or better to say, manage my shit better than i had been.

so clever i am.

and then life took an unexpected turn and this house sold. again. turns out, beach location is pick number one for rich people wanting to build oversized houses that no-one actually lives in except for holidays 2 or 3 times a year. in the last market turn , this house was sold and we were left, again, officially houseless. the new landlords turned out to racist cunts but decided they wouldn’t knock down the house and build just yet, so we could stay a little longer.

upon giving up on looking for houses, other shit happened: aka the learning curves of doom lol.

then out of blue, i was offered a house. not just any house, but one hell of a beautiful house, warm … long term.

what i would have logically turned down or not looked for, pretty much set itself into my lap.

now how the hell does that happen ay? is that one of those things that those know-it-all-guru-cunts are always going on about .. where, in a nutshell, if you chill the fuck out, good shit happens?

to my logic, none of it makes sense. at.all.

but i am desperately trying to go with it: cos it fucken worked!

*watch this space lol*




photography .133

#home #bnw #photography #photographer #kpm©

kpm ©






i did good

before i forget to celebrate the wins:

sunday was the first of the infamous home invasions aka open homes, for the house to be sold.

i had been dreading it slightly … ok, alot.

after the fucked up week and flashbacks and repercussions, i decided to take saturday ‘off’ and recalibrate.

i did my romiromi and was generally ‘kind’ if not kinder, to myself. it was fucken hard i must say. through it all, i managed to let go of alot of the angst i had been feeling and carrying and got back to the basics.

my wellness.

with that done, i made a new plan for future home invasions.

this morning, implementing my new plan – i started my day slow. absolutely no discussions of the week that had been or what i might do next; no thoughts of flashbacks … they can wait. i did my coffee … on purpose lol and sat in the sun for half an hour. had a couple tears for our cat … he would’ve usually been smooching around my legs and then heading off to one of three sunny spots. tears were fine i decided … they were rememberance, and thats ok. must have been, cos i smiled when i was done.

then i did breakfast. slowly and on purpose. no intrusive thoughts just me and my stomach lol.

then i picked out clothing that was comfortable and started packing my little bag of tricks. i included everything i needed and then added what i wanted.

coffee. my favourite sandwiches (banana and brown sugar – ikr), my music.

i had my shower, just abit longer than usual and dressed in my comfy clothing.

i got my coffee ready and put it in the thermos.

i went through happy photos and checked the good stuff on fb lol, it was a short list ;)

half an hour before the home invasion woman was due to come i finished off my last bits for my bag, donned ear phones, sunglasses and a jacket, got my walking stick and headed to the beach. i went the back way cos i didn’t want to run into said bitch face.

i walked slowly and stopped at all the flowers that have started to bloom along the beach walkway. i found me a possy in the dunes and parked up. i left my music going and settled into the sand.

once i’d got rid of my shoes i made my self comfy.

coffee first.

then another.

then a sandwich.

then some photos.

then alot of singing to one of my favourite songs.

then another sandwich followed by another coffee.

and before i knew it,  an hour and a half had passed.

i hadnt thought of the home invasion once and if my clock was correct they’d already have been and gone. i decided not to go straight home away and took a few more photos and then went for a walk along the sand.

it was beautiful and restful. then i made my way home. although calm, i was fucken exhausted, but nothing a nap didn’t fix.

next week im gonna change it up abit – still including coffee of course.

i did good!

kpm ©



the struggle is on…

In my scrolling and deleting and chopping photos (yes, I’m still doing that …), I found this … and what a on point fucking post to find right at this time … so, I decided to repost.

A #throwback from Sep 25, 2015 @ 15:46, when we were due to move from our first house out here at our beach, to the current small hovel we live in and have successfully cleaned up and made into a liveable and loveable situation.

Whats interesting, is we are on the verge of moving again because the owners have told us they are going to sell the property. The cheek however, is that we have just been served with a notice of rent increase even though they intend on selling this property.

We’ve come to understand that this is the norm for a beach ‘town’. There are those that own and those that don’t own. And we are of the latter. Whats sad, is this place don’t have any regard for those that rent the properties that the others own. The turn over here is about 18 months to 2 years and then the owners are selling, making a profit or putting up their rents and re-renting.

We – or I should say ‘I’ – have processed the technicalities of it all and this seems like a douchebag move on the part of the property owners and real estate place; a. cos they got butt hurt we wouldn’t comply with their bullshit and b. because they want more money. Simple.

We have to decide whether we want to comply with the next move or end up homeless. Right now I’m leaning toward the homeless route. I’m a tad stubborn like that though and absolutely hate being told, manipulated or forced into doing what I don’t want to do.

But I’ve learnt a little over the past 3 years …

  1. I don’t have to respond verbally to respond.
  2. I still don’t have to comply.
  3. I need to do what suits Me.

And thats it really.

Thats fucking life. Well the life of one who is constantly non-conforming and trying to re-shape the way they respond.

We’re counting down the days now; 5 more sleeps…but it’d be nice if we were counting down to Christmas or a birthday or something…else, rather than moving.

But I try to remain positive…we both are.

I went to see where we are moving to yesterday. It is a shit hole…for reals. But we can clean it up…sort of. And we’ll put our stuff in there and it’ll feel a bit better…I spose.

And as we clean up this place ready for the move…I can feel myself unravelling. I think it’s a good thing…and not really what I’m used too. Grieving as I go I think. So I don’t take it with me.

And as I clean the mokos fingerprints off the windows and pack up their pictures and the little things that the partner has collected over the past year…sea shells and bits of wood lol…I can feel tears…and again, I think that’s how it’s supposed to be. Sad because of loss…but then you focus on the new? Fuck knows…but that’s what I’m holding onto at the moment…

So it doesn’t feel like I’m being forced to do something I don’t want to do…cos that just opens a big fat can of ptsd shit storm…

But the body is feeling it…strange, because it usually doesn’t feel anything. But I guess, that’s what got me into this bundled up ptsd, panicky mess in the first place…not facing it…not processing it as it happens…holding on when it really needs to be let go of…

The bod is collapsing slightly…feeling sick and sore…shaky and slightly panicy…and swinging from, trying to take it as it comes and wanting to smash everything in sight to wanting to bawl my crusty eyes out. Geez…I’m not even due for my period yet! Lol.

I feel like I’m taking the ‘mauri’, that we’ve put into this place…taking it back. We’re probably leaving a bit of bad vibes for the fuckwits that come after us…but oh well…that’s what they get for being racist bastards. But the good stuff…our mauri…we’ll take that.

So…I’ll get back to cleaning and swinging and packing up and processing and singing. Tomorrow the mokos come to say goodbye to the house and see where we are going…they’re neat like that…they want to know everything, so they can make peace with it…and design themselves a little picture in their heads of what is taking place…

I should probably take a leaf out of their little books :) … they are way ahead of me!

#throwback shitter photo of my beautiful beach taken on my shitter phone ;) : Apr 6, 2016

kpm ©



photography .90

taken: Sep 28, 2015

#home #fams #familia #mess #bnw #photography #photographer #kpm©

kpm ©




photography .17

there was an old rose-bush the grew up the front of our old house. it’s an old type of rose, not sure what its called…but it was just beautiful.

#old #rose #flower #photography #kpm ©

kpm ©




disclosure ~ latch / sam smith

latch – disclosure ft sam smith, 2012

day before d day

And there’s tears.

I thought I was angry at first…then just frustrated because I sliced my finger open yesterday.

And then I felt my shoulders tighten…and my stomach is lurching…feels like it’s in knots. My legs have tightened and I feel dizzy.

Then…oh brilliant one…I realised I’m anxious. This is what it feels like pre panic attack.

So, I’m breathing.

And I’m calming the fuck down.

And I’m going through all the reasons I’ve been telling myself over the last few weeks. And I’m trying to focus on the positive that may come out of this.

And the fact that I’m still at the beach.

I’m trying to relax my arms. My head.

And then the tears come…I’m afraid…of the change…of being out of my safe place…

But more than that…I’m sad.

And I’m not good with sadness.

But I think this is a normal process. One I usually skip…I go straight to cold hard bitch that hardens up and gets the fuck on with it…

Not this time…I’m trying to sit with the uncomfortable and not suck up the tears…

We’ll be alright…

I’ll be alright…

Fuck I hate ptsd…I hate change…

I hate ptsd more…

And breathe…and breathe some more.



family, is all there is really

Well, its been an awesome weekend with the mokos and daughters and partners of and the partner and the neph and my mama.

They all came…to help us say goodbye to the house…to help the mokos say goodbye to the house…to see where we would be going…

And we laughed and ate and slept and sang and ate some more…drank plenty of delicious coffee and ate some more.

It was beautiful…

And I remembered…

That this is what home is about…the people that your surrounded with…the love that comes form those people…and the love that you give back to them.

In the next house…those same people…my family…will still come…with all their laughter and tears and screaming and eating…they’ll continue to take up space on my couch and throw all their washing in my washing basket…even though they don’t live here. They’ll still come and create dishes and argue and sing and eat all the food…they’ll share memories with me…I’ll share memories with them.

We’ll love and laugh and eat…wherever we are :)

I love them…all of them




all in a days learning…

After all the stress that has surrounded losing this house and trying to find another…plus all the other shit that’s been going on…I decided not to go and view the house scheduled for today.

I’m over it.

But it meant the partner was left to do the ‘scope’, ‘check out’, ‘ask pertinent questions’, ‘get a feel for the place’, ‘check the ceilings’ etc. Usually I wouldn’t leave this type of thing up to the partner…his scope usually involves…how big is the garage or shed…and that’s it. But off he went…looking about as defeated as I felt.

He returned about 15 minutes later. Not good I thought.

He didn’t seem all chipper and positive…he still looked tired…and slightly defeated. But he gave me a run down on the ‘cons’, and there were plenty.

The water catchment is ‘yah’ big…about the size of a bath.

Its dark.

It’s damp.

It’s dirty.

There’s no windows in one room.

It smells.

There’s mould.

It’s a shitty yellow colour.

Oh…the ‘pros’ – it has a garage.

And I pretty much said what he was thinking…’it’ll do…I don’t really give a fuck at this stage of the game’. So we are in agreement…finally.

Anyways…later on today, I got to thinking…

When we first decided to move out here…well actually, I desperately wanted to be by the beach and I fought with the partner for years…and as I got worse…he finally ‘gave in’, and we started looking for a house out these ways…In a nutshell.

So, when we started looking, all I wanted was to hear the sea. I didn’t really care about anything else. And as we continued looking around we figured out that beach properties, rentals in particular, are way shittier than we expected, especially for what we could afford. So our expectations…well actually…the partners expectations, dropped slightly. And when we found this place, it ticked all his boxes…garage, back yard, ‘fluffing around’ space (which is apparently different from a man cave…it’s more spacious…oh ok)…and it didn’t LOOK like a complete dive.

It ticked my boxes too. I could hear the sea. And…it had white walls, open space, log fire, fruit trees…but they weren’t all the things on my list. Just the first thing…too hear the sea.

So somewhere along the line we got particularly fussy and spoilt and comfortable and spoilt. Now that’s not all bad I think…it’s been healing…for both of us.

But up until today, I had forgotten that I still have what was on my original list…even if we get this next shit hole house…

I will be able to hear the sea.

And for the partner…he has a garage :)

And the rest of it…who cares! Compared to a tent on the back lawn of his auntys…the potential new shit hole, looks like a palace right now. And the thing with me and my learned partner…we’re resourceful :)

ps: we got the shit hole house!

kpm ©


unpredictable shit

I’ve discovered I would rather leave than be ousted. Rejection issues? Probs. Pretty sure my Nan used to say something about a lady leaving right on time…not lingering…something like that…knowing me I’ve rehashed 3 different sayings and merged them into one of my own…but oh well, sounds good.

But anyway…this 42 days notice has finally got me spinning…jumping…thrashing about like a P addict looking for a pipe. I don’t like having shit pulled out from under me…

But that’s life isn’t it. I don’t mean the whiny…omfg, life is shit and shit changes cos its shit and im shit…I mean, that IS life. Change. The unpredictable. The natural disaster. The fucking ebbs and flows of life.

I thought I enjoyed change…another one of those crock of shit beliefs I thought I believed…but turns out I’m full of shit…


I like change…that I – I…create. That’s not the same as wisps of exotic or toxic change that randomly splat onto the window of life. Those aren’t predictable. And those are the ones I don’t like. Neither does my body.

But…I’m getting the sense that as much as I like to predict the future, hedge my bets…not in the crystal ball sense…but the law of averages sense…Life can’t be predicted.

Bummer. Has anyone notified the local fucking ptsd association of that?? We’re fucked!

And as much as the world around me seems to have its own ptsd thing happening and they’re predicting the shit out of everything past present and futuristic…they’re not right…which means shit is exactly unpredictable and they can’t change that.

So we’re all fucked?!

Ebbs and flows…change…



Breath, mother fucker…breath.

kpm ©