Thank god for cats

So I haven't had a chance to post recently and I'm so sorry about that. The aeroplane that is my life has just hit an unexpected pocket of air and been blown quite a few miles off course. 

To elaborate, I've lost a few friendships for reasons that are completely beyond me, I've just learnt today that my roommate will be moving out, leaving me with the weight of replacing him, bills I can't wrap my head around and essential furniture I'll somehow need to find at a price I can afford. As an 18 year old working only part time and juggling uni as well, my budget is tight indeed. 

To top it all off I have exams and assignments and my cert 4 to worry about. And then of course there's my relationship crisis I've yet to review. Mostly because I've stashed all those feelings away in a cupboard I'm too scared to open for fear of overwhelming our Shadow Hunter protectors with more demons than they can possibly handle. Or, that's what I tell myself anyway. 

All in all, I'm very thankful for my cat, without whom I might possibly have gone insane. I'm also thankful for ice-cream...and the copious amounts of chocolate I've consumed in the past week. Although I'm not thankful for what it's done to my hips. 

But, there's something to learn from in all this. Actually, there's quite a few things to learn. 

When you find yourself bogged down by things that just seem entirely out of your control, when nothing seems to be going right and your life seems to be one big emotional cyclone, you need to hunker down, review your supplies and get ready to slay some fucking zombies.  In other words, don't, for the love of all things good, let it get to you. As soon as you panic and freeze up, you become a zombie buffet. And no one wants to be a zombie buffet. 

Essentially what I'm trying to say is that you need to calm down, make a list, prioritise and decide the best way to deal with your problems. And you can always, always be sure that pretty soon you will be okay. The best and worst thing about time is that it is constant. You can always be certain that eventually, someday in the near distant future, everything will have blown over and you'll be able to look back and say, I survived. And you know what? You'll be a better person for it.

Finding Middle Ground

What is the meaning of life?

From the earliest point in the cognitive history of the human race, this question has stumped us all. In fact, nowadays it’s become a bit of a joke (everyone knows the ultimate answer to life is 42).

Personally, I think that when we’re asking ourselves ‘what is the meaning of life’ we really should be asking, ‘what meaning can I get out of life’, and more importantly, ‘what do I want most from life’.

Here I was, sunburnt to all hell, sitting in a bar with a few mates and reflecting on a good day, when the discussion took an interesting and insightful turn. It became a friendly debate about purpose and what truly judges how successful a person’s life really is.

It was eventually decided that there is a metaphorical spectrum in life that, due to the structure of our society and our evolution as a species, is almost impossible to escape from. Either you are at one end of the spectrum, or you are at the other. And, ironically, middle ground is the ultimate goal.

At the furthest end of one side of this metaphorical spectrum, we have the rich. These are people who perhaps are excellent at their jobs, scraping in the big bucks, but absolutely despise the industry they work in. They despise the job itself, they struggle to force themselves to work each day, life seems pretty bleak. And so, despite having the means to anything they want, even money turns sour and ultimately they find themselves in a position of discontent.

At the polar opposite end, we have those who are supposedly ‘living the dream’. That is, they’re making a living out of doing something that they love and enjoy. However, their line of work unfortunately doesn’t bring in enough cash and as a result they spend their days in a constant pit of angst.

In our society, money is a means to a life. And, as much as I’d love to throw myself to the ground in denial (like many of you, I’m sure), unfortunately the reality is that very few are capable of living comfortably without an income. Yes, you could disappear into the wilderness, call yourself Tarzan and live the life of a hermit, but in all honesty it would be a very lonely, difficult life.  Trust me, a few episodes of Bear Grylls couldn’t prepare you for that kind of reality.

So, while many of you are probably set on the idea of doing what you love, ask yourself this: Is it worth it if all other aspects of your life turn sour?

Or, is a job that ensures you and your family live comfortably really worth it at the expense of your happiness? 

Where do you draw the line? How to you achieve that middle ground between all elements of your life?

In essence, that was the conversation. In our society it’s all too common to find people who are just plodding through life. Day in, day out, they go to work, they go home, they cook, they spend their weekends cleaning house; they’re in a constant state of monotony. That, or we have the few people who have put their foot down, determined to make something of what they love. Heroic, but unfortunately in most cases it doesn’t work out as well as planned.

Whether it be music, writing, dance, art, sport… the reality is that the competition to be the best in such genres is extremely high. Not only that, but the audience demands a particular standard and often a particular theme as well, which leaves the person broke and despondent.

Well, first of all, life isn’t black and white. Yes, you might hate one aspect of your job, but there could be something about it that you do enjoy. Or, maybe you aren’t getting the kind of money or recognition you’d like for your efforts in the genre that you love, but perhaps simply performing for people brings you joy.

Secondly, in life you aren’t singularly capable. That is, you can choose to do and enjoy a great many things. Maybe by day, you slave at your job that you hate, but by night you could be performing at the local pub or spending some time on that painting you’ve been working on.

People don’t seem to understand that yes, there IS time. Yes, I know, the housework needs to be done, but in all honesty, does it really have to be done right this second? You have the rest of your life to do housework! Throw some washing in the machine, take the kids out and go to the beach. Or maybe give yourself some time. Read for a while, get your tan on, go get a massage. If you find yourself in the cycle of full time work, you need to break it up and you need to find some enjoyment. And if you have a dream, you are capable of pursuing it while working to keep yourself and your family afloat. The worst thing you could do is to tell yourself you aren’t capable. Because otherwise, you’ll never find it within yourself to make it happen.

You don’t need a great amount of money to live. You just need enough. If you absolutely find yourself incapable of lifting your life, of approaching your job with a good attitude, of finding something or doing something to maintain your health of mind… you need to find something else. And if you are struggling so hard to make a livelihood from your earnings doing the thing you love and it’s slowly poisoning it, then you need to reconsider. In life, the most important thing is your happiness.

Now, I realise that I’ve probably gone on numerous tangents. What I’m really trying to say is this: That metaphorical spectrum where ‘happiness’ supposedly can only be achieved by doing what you love and earning a lot of money from it, doesn’t actually exist.

The fact is that all aspects of life will have something attached to it that you won’t necessarily like. Even doing something that you love and being rich isn’t going to be everything it’s cracked up to be. What we have to do, as people, is to find our own middle ground, in our own spectrum. Don’t allow yourself to be caught up in the deadly cycle of full time work, don’t allow yourself to think that you don’t have time, that you aren’t capable, because that attitude will ultimately spoil all aspects of your life. And if you are truly struggling, don’t be stubborn. Don’t let money be the reason for losing interest in something you love, and certainly don’t let it spoil your passion.

The meaning of life is happiness. There’s no trick way to achieve it and happiness doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to have achieved all your dreams. It’s simply finding that balance in your life where you, as a person, are content and moving forward.

Confidence, where you at?

Self confidence.

Think about it. How's your self confidence today? Is it alive and bouncing? Is it Big Foot? Aka, there's been reported sighting but you're pretty certain it's a magical creature that only exists in fairy tales and in the minds of the slightly deranged? Or has it just completely divorced you altogether? Maybe it died a while ago, along with your size 0 waist and your sex life?

Whatever the case may be, I'm here to tell you that you're wrong on all accounts. It exists, it’s there. You just can't see it because your mind is too crowded by doubts.

Here I was today, standing in line at the Boost Juice stand, having a good look at the people passing by. Big girls, skinny guys, short guys, girls with acne, girls with cankles and guys with man boobs and perfect girls and sexy guys and girls with the faces of angels and guys with muscles like King Kong. Every type of person you could imagine, they were there.

And it got me thinking, what is the definition of normal? Or beautiful even? If every single person on this planet is completely different, completely their own person, how can we possibly put a label on what is attractive and what isn't?

We have all these rules and guidelines in our society that dictates to us what is and isn’t beautiful. Rules I can’t understand when I look around at all these people and see that every single one of them has an attribute that is attractive. Every single day we all strive to force ourselves into this tiny little box that we’ve all been coerced into thinking is ‘The Beauty’, that there can be no other way. That if we aren’t skinny, if we don’t have perfect skin, if we don’t have a six pack, we’re not beautiful.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, is it not? And if people are constantly trying to appeal to the eyes of “society” rather than themselves, what have they actually achieved except a fabricated image of themselves that does not represent who they are? In all honesty if I meet a fit, tanned, blond bitch with big tits and a tiny waste and skin like a baby’s bottom…she’s still a bitch.

Sometimes I wish I could just turn people inside out. That way, those with the gorgeous hearts, the intellectual minds, the passionate thoughts and the strong conscience, would have their beauty displayed on the outside. The slutty bitches would actually look like slutty bitches. The arseholes would actually look like arseholes. Heart break in the world would reduce by 50% simply because all the 'playas' out there would look like shriveled mushrooms. 

An attractive quality, possibly the most attractive quality, is confidence. And guess what? It doesn't have anything to do with physical appearance.   

People will always be drawn to confidence. Emotions are contagious. A happy person will always have a very strong affect on those around them. And, taking all of the above into account, why is it that confidence is so unobtainable? There is no one else like you in the entire world. Who could you possibly compare yourself to? Why does this corrupted image of beauty, presented by society, have to have an impact on the person you are? 

Don’t hide yourself behind a wall of self-doubt, self-consciousness and self-hatred. Don’t pretend to be someone you’re not, don’t lie, don’t fabricate an external image to better suit society’s rules. There is no one else like you in the entire world. Be proud of it. Those with the confidence to be happy, to love themselves and to be exactly who they are, are much more attractive than any blonde bimbo or muscled guy in a tight shirt. 

Too Fast

Today, at work, we were booted off the server for a short period of time while the Bosses sorted out a few things. Essentially, this rendered me pretty useless as my work depends on the use of computers.

So here I was, twiddling my thumbs, spinning in my chair and generally feeling like a small, bored child, when it hit me.

Gosh the past two weeks have gone so fast.

I checked the clock then, and after a sharp double-take, I realised that the day was almost over. Where had the time gone? I could have sworn I’d only rolled out of bed an hour ago…

This is when I really got to thinking.

Are you ready?

The second I took to check that clock, the minutes that are ticking by even as I type this, are completely and utterly, irreplaceable. They’re gone. Forever. Sucked up into the abyss that is the intangible vacuum of time and space. I will never get that time back. Ever.

And now I’m a day older. A day closer to nineteen. A day closer to thirty! And, to put a more serious note on things, I’m a day closer to death. This day, too, is gone forever.

It actually scares me a fair bit, to think that so many seconds, minutes, days of my life are just being wasted twiddling my thumbs and sitting around doing nothing. To make matters worse, life only goes faster as you get older. When you think about it, a year in the life of a two year old is 50% of his entire life. A year in a two year old’s eyes would be a very long time indeed. On the other hand, a year in the eyes of a fifty year old is only 2% of their life. Therefore, a year seems to pass more quickly as you get older, because in the great scheme of things, it’s becoming a shorter and shorter period of time compared to the length of time you’ve already lived.

So I asked myself today, why am I wasting all this time? What have I done in the past few weeks that has made a significant impact on me as a person, on my life? Why am I wishing the day away just so I can get out of work at 5 o’clock? Why did I wish away my life only to be eighteen?

The answer is simply because this is what we are taught to do. This is how we are taught to be. As children, we go to school. We are taught that in life we will always have to do things we don’t want to. We are taught that we must get an education, we must get a job, we must earn money in a conventional, legal, societally-approved way. We must do this, we must do that, we mustn’t do this. Enslaved by these ways of thinking, people forget what the sole purpose of life is.

To be happy.

We are constantly wishing every day away, anticipating the weekend, or a short break in time where we can just do the things we love. Caught up in work, study, diet plans, exercise plans, house work, yard work, bills, maintenance etc… we forget to make every second count.

I don’t want to look back on my life and wonder where it’s gone and what I’ve achieved. I want to look back and think…

...thank fuck I’m an old bastard now because shit my life was exhausting.

New Ideas

Just started something new. Here's a little snippet!

***

I will never die.

The thought clawed its way up from the murky depths of my subconscious, burrowing into the forefront of my mind like a parasite.

I will live forever.

The wind lashed out, thrashing my greasy hair into knotted clumps and flaying my dirt-streaked skin like a whip. Beneath me, the horse’s sides heaved as she laboured against the storm. Her hooves thundered across the dirt, her head bent against the gale and her mouth foaming at the bit. Squinting against the wind, I felt my heart plummet. Ahead, the path emerged from the tree-line into a wide expanse of open ground. Away from the shelter of the trees, we’d both be tossed like feathers in the wind. We’d also be vulnerable, exposed to the searching eyes of our hunter. I gritted my teeth and leant forward, hiding my face in the tangles of the mare’s mane.

Cursed.

The horse leapt from the trees and I felt the tear of the wind like a thousand hands clawing at my skin. My knuckles were white as I clung to the reins. The rain plummeted down, each drop a shard of ice that chilled me to the bone. I felt, rather than heard, the cries of the wraiths as they clung to the shadows of the tree-line. Their harsh squeals grated against my mind, the tendrils of their thoughts oily and seductive. Fear gripped me like a vice. They would not pursue me into the open, but their presence confirmed my dread.

We’d been discovered. 

***

We're all weird and wonderful deep down.

A few days ago, I attended my very first Lit Hub. For those of you who aren't quite sure what I mean, its a kind of meeting where writers (aspiring, professional or otherwise) come together to discuss well...writing. Cool eh?

I approached the meeting with a whole lot of angst.

What if they don't like me? What if I'm the youngest? What should I wear? What if I'm not good enough?! 

I had no idea what to expect. When one thinks of a group of writers getting together, one certainly doesn't have in mind a group of kids with pencils, a notebook and the structure of a narrative on the board. Because in all honesty, that's me right there. I'm only a writer by hobby, I don't have any notable experience or a degree in creative writing. I've certainly never had anything published. I found myself imagining a group of men in pin-striped suits, smoking cigars and tapping away at typewriters. It did register in my head that this notion was completely ridiculous, but in my nervousness my mind couldn't seem to conjure anything more probable. 

By the time I'd arrived I'd almost convinced myself it was a bad idea. I knew nothing of the world of writing, only the stuff I'd put down on paper myself. But by then of course, it was too late. I was there. My fate was sealed. I determined then, to think of myself as a simple House Elf at Hogwarts. I would not be seen or heard, I'd just listen and learn. 

All of my worry was completely unwarranted though. As it turns out, whilst they were all from completely different walks of life, writers are pretty damn cool people. We were all of different ages, interests and life styles. All from different places, all of varying experience in writing. Yet, because of our single, common variable, the talk never stopped. As to be expected, we were all a little weird and wonderful. I found this oddly comforting though, knowing that I wasn't the only one with my head fixed firmly in the clouds (or in the next galaxy, wink wink). 

Without a doubt, I know that I will learn a lot from the group in the coming weeks, and in all honesty I can't wait. Its turning into a very exciting year! 

Yeah, baby

A few days ago I was presented with a very exciting opportunity. Over the course of the year, five local writers will be visiting various cafes around Townsville to work on their individual writing projects.  At the end of the year, these projects will be edited and digitally published. During the course of the year, their movements and how they’re travelling with their projects will be advertised via social media, posters and fliers so that people with similar interests and other aspiring writers will be able to visit the cafes and have a chat with the writers participating in the program.

I’ll be one of those writers.

I’m so excited I literally cannot contain myself. Holy Lord Jesus, I just can’t even… there’s just not enough words to explain to you how ridiculously excited I am. I’m over the moon, I’m floating on cloud 9, I’m in a distant galaxy fighting strange beasts, it’s now possible to eat as much ice-cream as you want without ever getting fat and money actually grows on trees! When you think about how amazing that would be, that’s almost how excited I am.

This is an opportunity to get my name and my work out there. I’m so lucky. It won’t all be a piece of cake though. It’s going to be a huge test of motivation and drive, I’m really going to have to stick with it, prioritise and manage my time. Here’s hoping that I can do it!

The project kicks off in March and will end in September.

Bring it. 

Seriously though, be free.

So, today I finished a very disturbing, not exactly enjoyable, but definitely eye-opening novel based around the identities of a number of Meth addicts and their struggle amidst a Zombie Apocalypse.

Now before you dismiss it as another wild attempt by an author to shake up the typical zombie story, let me share with you a few things that I learnt from this book.

The story kicks you straight into the action from the very first page. I know this is something you learn to do in primary school, however I’ve found that quite often the ‘rules’ set out for writing narratives are usually dismissed by authors. And for good reason really. It’s a story people, it’s meant to be exciting, unpredictable and captivating. You can’t cage it like a zoo animal. It needs the open pastures of Africa to run wild and free.

That said I do approve of starting in the midst of something exciting, because essentially engaging readers from the first page is important. Seriously though, be free. 

Reading the first page was like a slap to the face with a wet rubber glove. So yeah, I’m all about letting the story run wild and free, but no speech marks? That’s so beyond wild I can’t even come up with a good metaphor for it. The lack of speech marks wasn’t what got me; it was the crudeness, the absolute harsh honesty and the naked, unfettered portrayal of humanity in its most real form. I found myself comparing the story to an open wound. Like, that’s what’s inside of me. There isn’t stardust, or great acts of bravery or magic. I can’t choose the high road and not eat my roommate’s TimTams, let alone sacrifice myself for the greater good or save the world. I’m just human.

The characters in this book were like cornered animals. There was no heroism; no firm sense of morality, there was only survival.

I want to believe that if I was ever faced with a situation that I’ve put my characters through I’d be able to show the same amount of selflessness that they do, but the honest truth is that humans are animals and, like animals, when our survival instincts kick in, thinking rationally and making decisions as we would sitting around the dinner table, is impossible. Our lives aren’t tested on a day to day basis, those of us in Western society don’t live each day in uncertainty and fear.

The book really shocked me. The further I got in, the less I wanted to continue reading, but at the same time I had to. Today I finally read the last page. As a firm believer in happy endings, the ending cut me to the core. But I suppose I should have expected it after watching the lives of the characters completely and utterly go up in flames.

Despite everything I’ve just said, I still remain a firm believer in the power of good. And I do believe that there must be a hero in every story. However, after reading this book and then going to watch a Disney movie (because gosh, I was in need of a serious pick me up), I came to realise that this realistic depiction of human behaviour is very important in all character creation.

Sometimes you can’t give readers everything they want. A character, in order to be relatable, in order to truly fall in love with, to really invest your emotions in, can’t be a perfect Disney princess. They have to be someone you could imagine meeting and talking to. They have to stress over decisions, they have to react without thought, they have to fall down and get back up and most of all their experiences have to change and mould them.