Sarah Wilson

Check out this new online gizmo. Web 2.0 Suicide Machine allows you to wipe yourself from social networking. Forever.

become as free as a REAL bird

Web 2.0 Suicide Machine can strike you off Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn and MySpace. At the press of a button.

As the site says,  be as free as a real bird. A 2010 resolution, perhaps? To free yourself from the relentless tinkering with and preening of your social network sites?

I am very much hesitant about why I have a Twitter, Facebook and LinkedIn presence. It all seems rather counter-intuitive to my search for simplicity and LESS in all aspects of my life.

This one really got me:

What is it about these videos? I think it’s the sense of Something Big and Human Happening. Of something simple that’s developed (often) innocently, but that grows exponentially through people’s desire to connect and share.

Check these images out: one model’s, well, model size (a US size 2). The other, Crystal Renn, is a size 16 (US size 12).

It’s a grand gesture that appears in the upcoming issue of V Magazine. To my knowledge, it’s never been done before. That is, putting women of different sizes side by side in the same spread. We can all see the point of it…to show us it can, in fact, be done. One fashion blogger describes it as “Renn taking on a typically slim model”, as though it’s a battle. He describes the onslaught as “revolutionary”.

Sure. But does it makes us feel any better? Salon.com’s Mary Elizabeth Williams’ 9-year-old daughter Lucy (have you followed that?), put it nicely: “That makes the fashion part of my mind hurt.”

I just needed an excuse to post this snap courtesy of awkwardfamilyphotos.com:

it's not easy to upstage the tree!

* and just a little reminder for anyone finding themselves reading this because they’re feeling overwhelmed by family and Christmas and expectations, you don’t have to be having a “happy” Christmas. Last night I slept on a foam mattress. 

Do you do this? Fret about finding the perfect holiday WITH A PURPOSE? Recently, I went around in 238974897 circles trying to find the best place to do a traditional Indian treatment. That’s what I do. I Over-research. Eventually the right answer pops up in front of me. So obvious. I didn’t want to travel to India. India ain’t good for us vatta types. But, it turns out, the first ever ( officially recognised ayurvedic wellness retreat outside of India is in Ubud, Bali at Como Shambhala.

Can’t sleep? This works. It truly does, in a gentle, lasting way. Gwinganna retreat in the Gold Coast hinterland is where I did mine. I can’t recommend it enough. I learnt that you shouldn’t eat grapefruit at night and that sleep cures most things – auto-immune, cholesterol problems, weight issues. Four months later and I’m still living out the tips I learned there. Aside from anything else, the place is authentic in its commitment to wellness. Some of the best healers on site, organic food, a wise old legend who lives on the estate

I know, I know…these details are a long time coming. I posted a while back about visiting a shaman (who told me I shouldn’t do relationships). Tri Makna is his name and he’s a lovely, gentle soul who’s got it going on. He has a twinkle in his eye that says, “I see you”. From memory it cost about $AUS30 for an hour and he’s a 15 minute taxi ride out of Seminyak, past the Denpasar jail where poor Shapelle is couped up. If you’re in the area, he’s worth meeting and being seen by. Go with an open heart…

I found this idea so damn cute: a collage of Polaroid pics of all the visitors to your flat/house. A Who’s Who visual compendium of Folk Worthy of Being In Your Intimate Space.

It’s a bit like those walls at the back of Italian restaurants where they get famous people to sign pictures of themselves (strangely they’re mostly soap stars from the 80s you’ve never heard of, but who definitely have an AURA about them).

Neil at 100 Awesome Things posted the idea today, thus:

My friend Rob welcomes visitors to his swanky apartment by flash-bulbing them in the face with a dusty old Polaroid camera. After the picture slides out and the  color fades in he staples it to a foam board in his front hallway. Over time he’s created a giant collage presumably titled Anybody Who’s Ever Visited Me and turned a blank white wall into an artsy conversation piece.

This week I meet the Dalai Lama.

And can I be honest? The experience nearly turned me inside out, what with the three days of fretting beforehand. I’d been invited to meet His Holiness, the spiritual leader of the people of Tibet, and ask him, on behalf of all you lot, how to make life better. Seriously, what does a girl ask? What’s the one question that will cut straight to the fuggy, constipated, heart-sinky life angst that people like you and me experience when we drop our facades?

This week I write a perfect list.I find there are two schools of thought on to-do lists. The first says they’re a necessary dumping ground for shower inspirations and must-do minutiae (“fix rear-vision mirror”, “buy Napisan”)…all the noisy guff that swirls unanchored in your head. Ergo, lists are liberating devices that free the mind and help us Finally Get On Top of Things.

The second says lists are annoying. They stall the free-flow fun of life. Folk in this camp might point out that lists are not an inevitable part of the human experience. They emerged in the 1920s after the CEO of a steel company held a competition to find a snazzy new technique for getting more done in a day. The ten-item, tick-as-you-go list was the winning tendor. Mind you, a non-list writer probably couldn’t share such a factoid having failed to jot it down for later reference in the first place.

To-do list or not to-do list? Which is the happier path? It’s a question with far more water-cooler weight than you might think.