Never put all your eggs in one basket, right?! I hate that I haven’t been able to control my Facebook Business pages, nor respond to the daily messages I get from Messenger as I’ve been banned for 30 days off Facebook. I’ve been here before, 3 times, maybe more, but it never gets less frustrating, nor any easier.
I’ve been replying to most messenger messages on Instagram. I can see the messenger messages but can’t reply, and when I log into Facebook it suggests that I’m actively on Facebook so I get a lot of messenger messages when I log in, even though I’m banned from replying. Sad thing is that direct private messages on Instagram tend to sit there dormant, until someone finally, months later, realises there was a message sitting in their Instagram inbox all along.
I’m over it, but I have no choice. Sadly I’m genuinely looking forward to being on Facebook again once my ban is lifted (another 12 more days now).
Yup, I’ve gone and done it, FINALLY! ZEN is now offering free shipping on all orders Australia wide and International orders too. #feelsgoodman
It’s never been about making money. I care much more for the right people wearing the brand, and you’ve got to admit… adding things to a cart, then seeing a large shipping fee just puts you off, right?! So fuck it, free shipping it is!
I’ve also spent a bit of time in the Shopify backend to get rid of all the marketing and sales gloat (still a work in progress!). I’ve removed the need for minimal orders in order to qualify for free shipping, I’ve deleted a bunch of social media icons, share and pinit functions. I’ve removed the review system and push to sale overlays. I’ve yet to get around to removing afterpay and messenger chat but I’m on it!
Pack and send at the ready, ZEN is rolling again! The shop is extremely low on stock so be sure to grab what you can whilst you can as I intend to cut down our range and many items will not be re-ordered going forwards.
I’ve disabled comments on posts. Sorry to the few of you who bother to leave comments, but I’ve got a stalker leaving abusing comments daily with the intention for me to read them, then feel shit. I’m quite sure I know who it is but I can’t get through to them. If anyone in my network is a lawyer, or can recommend me a lawyer please get back to me via private message, much gratitude.
To the stalker leaving the evil comments; you’re better than that.
There’s no point in wearing the anger and hate you’re feeling if all you’re going to do is leave nasty unpublished comments on my blog.
Dealing with it is the better way forward for both of us. If you refuse to call me then come out about it all in public, but don’t leave me hanging as it’s getting tiring (and surely you are sick of creating new hotmail email addresses and also visiting my website daily to read what’s new in my life).
Alaskan crab fritters + poached egg at The Pool Cafe.
Hey Chris!
I ran into Chris in Randwick the other day, but was with Mum and couldn’t stop to catch up. This morning I was on WhatsApp and he sent me a message asking if I was free for lunch. Usually I’d say no as I’d be too baked to be fucked, but these days I’m so quick to say yes to anything that gets me out of the house!
I met Chris many years ago through Indy So at IS Motor Racing. Indy built my R32 GT-R and Chris was the sales guy at ISMR at the time. We’ve been friends ever since. Over the years we’ve had MANY conversations about joining forces, but nothing has ever come out of it. It’s been over a year since we’ve caught up and today we found ourselves once again talking about projects we could work on together.
I’ve got a bit of a plan in mind that involves Dianne, Chris and I. Business ideas even… not that I love business, but business with these 2 could be really fun and rewarding as they both have in abundance all the things I lack, and vice versa, and we’re all working from home/for ourselves too.
I don’t often listen to The Cure, but when I do, so do the neighbours!
I’m an Artist. I went to Design School. I used wear women’s leggings throughout university. I had pink box plaits. My mum is my best friend. I was 18yrs old when my Dad died. When Dad died I cried, a LOT and I haven’t cried since. I’m now 43 and I cry a LOT. I cry every time Chris Cornell hits that note in ‘Fell On Black Days’. I cry when I try to sing and play ‘Nutshell’ by Alice in Chains. I cry watching other people cry on YouTube. I cried in the mall when I got overwhelmed by the noise in the food court and realised I didn’t want to be there. So what am I trying to say? I’m trying to say that crying feels SO fucking good.
“Boys Don’t Cry” has a double meaning to me now; Dad brought me up to be a man. Swallow your tears, crying is for girls. I see now how so many guys don’t cry because they think they shouldn’t, because they see crying as a form of weakness and so they choose to be less connected to their emotions.
I’ve been living with so much pent up anger that it took my therapist to tell me to my face that I go on about all these great things I’ve done, but when I’m playing my life back to her I don’t at all sound like Mr. ZEN. It’s taken me about a year since first seeing my therapist to learn how to cry again. The medication I’m on is meant to help me with my mood swings and depression, but I still feel they’re just sleeping pills and more of a breakthrough has been made by ditching the bong. I’m now no longer wake and baking every day of my life away, the numbness has subsided and I can see clearer by the day.
A couple of tears listening to some amazing dead dudes gives me a huge emotional release. Take it from a 43yr old emo, ask yourself why are you trying so hard to be a Ninja Turtle? A super turtle is even worse than ordinary turtles who retreat into their shells when shit hits the fan, hoping for everything to just magically work itself out, or go away before resurfacing. Stop sweeping your emotions under a Fukari Rug.
If you’re an emo guy own it. Being emo shouldn’t be a ‘thing’. Macho macho men make you out to to be a weirdo, but hey, in reality it’s those guys who can’t deal with their emotions who are the weird ones.
