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.