April Fools

You know those dreams where one minute you’re standing in the middle of Bunnings trying to decide between a blue unicorn and pink unicorn and then all of a sudden you’re in the middle of the fucking Sahara Desert with no arms, no legs, a broken paddle and a compass that doesn’t point North? No? Just me? Okay, well that’s how I felt standing in the middle of IKEA, Melbourne, less than a week after I’d packed myself up and made the big move.

I’m not sure whether it was the fact that I was operating on limited sleep, my fingers felt like they were turning into icicles, a lack of service or because I’d already dropped a number of pieces of furniture on my sensitive toes… but I was in the midst of an unprecedented, extremely embarrassing meltdown. And yeah, I was standing in the middle of IKEA, of all places. Apparently Melbournians are made of stronger stuff too, because locals were skirting around me like I’d sprouted warts or something.

It was here, after months of basking in the glow of my colleagues’, friends’ and family’s encouragement, that I finally became disillusioned. There was a big sticker on my forehead that read ‘April Fools Sucker!’ except it wasn’t April, and I’d inflicted this upon myself. Once again, despite countless moves (wanted and unwanted), I’d kidded myself into thinking that if I made this move, my whole life would do a complete back-flip, I’d re-make myself, I’d work harder, I’d chase my dreams, I’d not let myself get caught up in all the drama of dating, going out etc. etc. etc. But here I was, standing in IKEA, teeth chattering, probably resembling a snotty two year old, with the sudden, dawning realisation that I was completely, absolutely unprepared for this feeling of being utterly alone.

Somewhere, deep down, I’d known that this move wouldn’t be easy. I’d known that I’d go through a period of stagnancy and that not everything would fall into place like a slice of pizza (or eight) and a glass of chocolate milk after work. No, I’d have to work for it. But in that moment, all of those realisations sort of hit me like one of Dad’s farts after Curry Night. In one big, overpowering wave. And yeah, the water works kicked into full motion. 

You’ll be happy to know that I did survive. I got my furniture and I kept plodding along. Since then I’ve picked up an awesome job, I’ve continued my writing, got back into dancing, I’ve met some pretty cool people whom I hope to call friends in the near-distant future, and yeah, I’ve had a couple more meltdowns, I’m missing home a lot and I swear I will never feel my toes again (and probably not see them again either. My chocolate addiction has gotten wildly out of control).

It wasn’t until yesterday really, while I was semi-lost out in the middle of a gorgeous walking trail around the Yarra River in the heart of Melbourne that I realised I’m kind of an idiot. Okay, not kind of, I’m practically a Magpie Lark on the wrong side of a glass door. Moping, sitting around, wishing I had friends and eating endless amounts of chocolate is not going to get me anywhere. Complaining about it to my Mum is also not going to get me anywhere (sorry Mum for being a complete Princess).

Instead, I’ve constructed a sort of reminder survival list to ensure that I do not spend the next two months, and more, the same way I spent this past two months. Here goes;

1. Real life is not a Harry Potter book – Nothing can be fixed with the wave of a wand. Get up. Deal with it. Make it better.
2. Chocolate is not an appropriate substitute for vegetables (neither is peanut butter toast). Fun fact: It takes 4 hours of exercise to work off one Tim Tam – think about it, and then apologise to your thighs. 
3. Don’t worry before worry is due! Nothing will come of it except premature wrinkles. Take things as they come.
4. Avoid IKEA, unless armed with two friends, a Ute and steel-capped boots.
5. Don’t wait for anyone or anything. In the famous words of Shia Labeouf, “JUST DO IT!”
6. Think warm thoughts.
7. Exercise is one of the most important keys to happiness. Suck it up Princess.
8. You’re never really alone. Pick up that phone, make that call, reach out. There are always people around you willing to help.
9. And finally, keep fighting – If anything, your dreams are at least a little bit closer.

     It's true that it takes a huge amount of courage to make any sort of change, big or small. But what I'm realising now is that it takes even more courage to deal with the aftershocks of that change. Nothing is ever going to be easy. You will always have ups and downs. But if there's anything in life that I'm absolutely certain about, it's that everything will eventually work out, one way or another. 

Doug the Gnome of Doubt... Doubt the Gnome of Doug?

I spent a lot of time thinking about metaphors that could be used to describe doubt. From a passing annoyance, a mosquito bite, to something as debilitating as a terminal illness. The thing about doubt is that not everyone can see it, but at some point in our lives everyone feels it. There’s no cure, and the only treatment available to us is the power of our own minds.

I like to think of my own doubt as a tiny Gnome that lives in the deepest darkest corner of my brain. He wears a top hat and smokes Cuban cigars. He has a voice like Nicki Minaj, with an attitude to boot. Generally he’s a pretty placid fellow. But it only takes one comment, one thought, one stumble and  he’s charging through my thoughts with all the destructive power of an avalanche.

   

Day in and day out, we fight with allegorical tooth and nail to lock that little gnome up in the cage where he belongs, on most occasions with little success. As it were, Doubt is a well-practiced escape artist and he demands to be heard.

Just a few days ago I struck up a conversation with a complete stranger, which soon lead into general discussions about our aspirations for the future. Now, I’m not entirely sure about the How’s or Why’s, but in less than a few minutes I found myself in a very uncomfortable situation. You see, this stranger was very disapproving of the goals I had set myself. In fact, she managed to sell them as ‘silly, unnecessary and selfish’ all in the one sentence. Needless to say, I was shocked. Unexpectedly-shat-on-by-a-seagull-during-a-casual-stroll-along-the-beach shocked.

At that point I probably should have punched her in the nose, stood my ground and declared, “I will not settle! I will not spend the rest of my life in dull complacency!” and stormed off with my head held high and my confidence intact. Instead I choked out barely comprehensible words of agreement and slunk off with my tail between my legs.

This woman, this complete stranger, had successfully shrunk me to the size of a mouse and trampled me with her pink-slippered feet. I could feel my heart and my confidence leaking out of my ears like something out of a horror movie. And oh boy was my little Gnome Of Doubt (let’s call him Doug) throwing a party. In fact, he’d practically hitched a ride to Vegas, where he’d probably spend the evening throwing back margaritas and twerking on the main strip.

All of a sudden I was doubting myself. And it was terrifying.

For the next few days I thought about nothing else. It didn’t matter what kind of front I put up, how much I ranted about it, or how often I joked about pink slippers, a chord had been struck and now Doug was on a field trip.

It was a while before I remembered that we deal with difficult personalities on a day to day basis and, as much as I would love to hurl myself to the ground in a rage, beat my fists on the floor and yell obscenities at every person who so much as breathes in my direction,  it would be completely pointless. Regardless of the Who, What, When or Where, there will always be people who  disagree. There will always be people who need to throw in their lot. And perhaps that’s only human.

What I also realised was that the doubt I was feeling now, had in fact always been there. I’d always had a tiny, niggling voice in the back of my head that constantly told me I wasn’t good enough. And that too was only human.

The fault here was with myself, for allowing just another person to have such a huge effect on my confidence. If I were to allow every negative comment made by strangers to affect me so greatly, I’d be confined to a psychiatric ward.

The reality of the situation is that doubt will always be a constant in my life. The only comfort I can offer is that doubt is manageable, so long as we continually refuse to allow the thoughts, words or actions of anyone other than ourselves to have a negative effect on our lives.  

So it’s not quite a happy ending, but it is a reminder to be strong, to be brave, to be steadfast in your beliefs and above all, to avoid entering into conversation with elderly ladies wearing pink slippers in public spaces. 

Doubt will always be there. Make it your personal challenge to beat it at every turn. 

It's Okay to be Alone

I’m always slightly embarrassed when the subject of my three cats comes up in conversation. After putting two and two together, most people are quick to brand me the ‘Crazy Cat Lady’. Two and two being that I have ‘officially’ been a Single Pringle for the better part of  a year and half. Whilst the label ‘Crazy Cat Lady’ generally brings to mind a crooked old lady, brandishing a box of kitty treats like a sword, with crazy eyes and surrounded by a sea of cats – Clearly not me (although the crazy eyes do tend to come out at 2am in the morning when the insomnia is blaring and I’m spooning peanut butter out of the jar like we’re in some kind of peanut butter apocalypse), the stigma surrounding the label is a tad depressing.

In the time that I’ve been single, I’ve watched my friends jump in and out of relationships a number of times.  I’ve watched them get engaged, fall pregnant and move in with their partners, get a puppy or two, buy a house. All the while I’m sitting here with my cats and a veritable mountain of chocolate wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Why aren’t I settling down? Why don’t I have a boyfriend? Am I ugly? Am I too bossy? I’m not… I mean,  is it because I’m too fat? Oh I get it, it’s because I have a bum-chin isn’t it? I mean, come on, in the right light and with the right angle, you practically can’t see it…

 I used to spend a fair amount of time moping, particularly on a Friday night when my roommates stayed at their partners’ houses and it was just me, a bottle of wine, our cats and the tissue box.   

And I know I’m not the only one. Perhaps it’s a little different for men, but women, particularly young women, seem to spend a lot of their time searching for ‘The One’. Nights spent scouring the late night for a potential drunken mate, primping their looks, checking out every Hottie buying coffee at Gloria Jeans, hours spent left-swiping on Tinder (guilty), stalking friends of friends of friends on Facebook, an hour spent carefully crafting a text message that’s the perfect mix of casual crossed with interest – god forbid you seem too interested!  Generally thinking you will only be truly happy when you’ve stumbled across that ‘special someone’.

A few months ago I mentally slapped myself. Wake the fuck up Ash, where did you get this crazy idea that you need to be in a relationship to be happy? Being single isn’t a curse, it’s an opportunity (yes, another one. I know, I know, I’m starting to sound like a broken record player).

At some point in your life, for a significant amount of time, you NEED to be single. Why? Because it allows you to focus on yourself, it allows you to be selfish.

Contrary to common belief, it’s okay to be selfish. And it’s okay to be alone.

Young people often fall head over heels into relationships, without stopping to think about where they’re headed, what they want to do with their lives, what makes them happy. And as clichéd as it sounds, they don’t really learn who they are or what they are capable of because they’re too focused on the ‘us’ or the ‘them’. Don’t get me wrong, love, in any shape or form is a wonderful part of life, but in this day and age, in Western society, both sexes have all the opportunities in the world laid at their feet, opportunities that sometimes go ignored in the wake of someone else’s needs and wants.

That said, I’m not condemning young people who are in long-term relationships or have started families. As always, you need to do what’s right for you. If that’s what you want, then full steam ahead Sister! Sometimes life leads you in unexpected directions, and sometimes you need to embrace what it throws at you.

I’m also not saying that once you reach a certain age, you need to be in a long-term relationship or starting a family. Or, god forbid, that its more ‘acceptable’ to have a family at a later age.

No, what I’m saying is that, if at ANY point in your life you find yourself alone, with three cats and a box of tissues –  wipe your nose, quit moping, rein in Cupid, unstring the bow and stop hunting for your ‘other half’. All you need is you.

While you have the opportunity - learn to be independent. Be spontaneous. Do the things that make you happy.

At the right time, the right person will walk into your life. Until then, remember: it’s okay to be selfish and it’s okay to be alone.  Take the opportunity and run with it baby! The world awaits! 

Hozier - Take Me To Church. 

On repeat. 

Just Do It.

Picture this:

The sand crunched satisfyingly beneath her toes as the young girl prepared to push off. She perched precariously on the edge of the swing, her tiny hands curled around the chains with enough intensity to turn the knuckles white, her face the picture of concentration. For a minute she held her breath, excitement palpable, and then she pushed off. Higher and higher she swung, her hay-coloured hair whipping about her like a cape. An exultant grin lit her face as the swing reached a height at which she could just peak over the tops of the houses down the street. One final, powerful swing backward saw her concentration return. With a squeal of excitement, she let go of the swing and launched herself forward, her arms spread wide as if she could fly.

I’m not sure about you, but thinking about launching myself out of a swing set now, at 19 years old? I’ll politely decline, thank you very much. As an adult, I’ve learnt my lessons. Broken bones, chipped teeth, grazed knees… and who knows what kind of heebie jeebies are lurking in the sand, just waiting for the opportunity to take a nip at my precious toes?

And yet… in the same breath, I kind of wish I could take that leap. Or rather, I wish I could take risks without any thought for the potential consequences.

As we grow older and enter into adulthood, we are no longer able to launch ourselves into the unknown with absolute faith that we will be able to pick ourselves up at the bottom. We worry, we delay, we allow ourselves to be dissuaded by potentials. Potential consequences, potential downfalls, potential problems. Until finally we convince ourselves that our ideas, our goals, are impossible.

What I've come to realise these past few months is that you can’t allow yourself to be afraid of the unknown. Any action comes with consequences. Any excitement comes with a little bit of fear. Success doesn't come without a little risk and sometimes happiness means taking yourself out of your comfort zone.

Everyone has desires, aspirations, dreams and goals. Invest in some knee pads, tuck your elbows in and just go for it. Talk to that guy you've been crushing on. Quit that job. Move to a new city. Wear that dress. Get married… or hell, get divorced! It’ll be difficult, it’ll be scary, but I tell you what, you have no idea how clear the skies can be until you've made a decision to change your life for the better. To do what’s right for you. 

My message today I guess is simply this:

Take a leap of faith.

Hey guys!

I've really been getting stuck into the writing this past week and I thought I'd share a few bits and pieces in the hopes of getting some feedback! Feel free to channel your meaner side!

Thanks for taking a minute to have a read 

Ash x

Typhon Expanse - Anthology 

I let out a small sigh of relief as an unexpectedly cool breeze ruffled the hair that lay slick to the back of my neck. My relief was short-lived however, as the next strong gust whipped the bedraggled black strands across my face and into my eyes. Catching a rather large chunk in my mouth, I choked and sputtered, breaking the thick silence that had hung over our congregation like a cloak. I winced. It was a mark of our colony’s discipline that not a single person turned to glare at me disapprovingly, although I could almost sense Elder Frost’s third eyelid twitching irritably, even from my position at the very back of the group.

I sunk low into my robe, feeling my ears grow hot with embarrassment. I’d long been considered the ‘odd one’ in the community. According to my tutors, I lacked the ‘natural grace and patience’ of the females of our race. Personally I liked to think that my vivacious personality was simply a source of jealousy. That aside, even I couldn’t deny that too often I found myself in uncomfortable situations I’d unwittingly brought on myself.

A dribble of moisture slid down my back, joining the other droplets of sweat that were quickly forming a formidable lake at the base of my tail. I shifted uncomfortably in the heat, willing my legs to uncramp themselves. The small movement caused me to brush involuntarily against the girl crouched respectfully on my left. Her posture stiffened, the set of her mouth radiating disapproval. I let out another sigh, this time in frustration.

Our congregation had gathered in the Sacred Valley, beneath the shrine of our Sun Gods, to pray for a safe and prosperous Mid-Cycle. It was a traditional event that occurred at this time each rotation and was considered of utmost importance. Group prayer and extended fasting ensured our continued grace in the eyes of our Gods. At this particular time, when both Suns scorched the land and our already limited water supplies grew even scarcer, survival became a top priority. Unfortunately, prayer was all that the colony could fall back on in harsh times. Me? Well, I was somewhat of a cynic. I wasn’t sure that any amount of prayer was going to push us through this Mid-Cycle, which already appeared bleaker than usual. That said I wasn’t able to offer up any life-changing alternatives to our predicament either.

Don’t get me wrong, I firmly believe in the existence of our Gods. Whether or not they have a hand, or even an interest in our measly existence? Well, I couldn’t help but speculate. I wasn’t the only one either. Many of the youth felt that it was a time for a change in leadership, a time to discuss new ideas, approach the growth and survival of our race from a new direction. The Elders were steadfast in their traditions though; the structure of our leadership allowing for no argument from the general population.

So here we knelt, the heat beating down on us from both the East and the West, the sand beneath our knees growing hotter and hotter, my stomach practically about to grow legs and go in search of food itself and the stench of sweaty bodies quickly becoming a fainting hazard.

Unfortunately, it would only get worse as the Suns neared their peak.  

The wind had picked up in earnest now. I raised my face to the sky, closing my eyes and allowing myself to enjoy the small respite. Abruptly, a shadow fell across my lids. I frowned. The wind was abnormal, but clouds? Rain at this time of the rotation was unheard of.

As the wind continued to grow in strength, I slowly became aware of an unusual whirring sound. 

Age Is All About Perspective

I woke up this morning to the horrific realisation that in less than a few months I’ll be leaving behind my teenage years, stripping away any confidence I had in my lustrous youth and entering into my third decade.

I’ll be 20 years old. Practically ancient.

I found myself scrutinizing my face in the mirror, terrified that somehow I’d aged overnight. Is that another wrinkle under my eye? Am I getting…jowls? I’m totally getting jowls. If I pull my face up this way… Oh my god is that a double chin?! Does my nose look droopy to you? Its drooping isn't it?

It was as I was standing there, my face smooshed against the mirror, age-defying moisturizer smeared across my cheeks as if I were about to do battle with time itself, that I had this world-altering, life-changing, mind-boggling thought…

Why does it matter if I’m old.

Old. It’s such a taboo word isn't it? To be called ‘old’ is to be labelled undesirable and weak. Age has become a barrier, a constant reminder that as our knees grow knobblier, our lives grow shorter. Age is an enforcer of limitations. We are instilled with this idea that the older we get, the less opportunity life holds for us, the less capable we are of filling our days with excitement and newness.

Caught up in the stigma surrounding age, we constantly dwell on the years we've left behind, rather than the years that lie ahead, believing, wrongly, that our due date has come and gone.

There’s a reason we celebrate birthdays, a reason we may have forgotten now that longevity of life has become the norm.

You've lived another year. You've created another chapter of memories. You've survived.

Once upon a time, age was considered a virtue, rather than a vice. To have lived to 30 and 50 was an achievement. The elderly were the most valued members of society simply because they held all the knowledge and experience of a lifetime in the lines of their faces.  

Life is not a given, it’s a gift, and each year older should be treated as such. Celebrated, rather than dreaded.

Maybe you can’t recover from a night of drinking like you used to, or flirt your way out of a ticket or play that favourite sport. Maybe you've got jowls, or you can’t see your belly button because your boobs retired some time ago. The point is that you lived to see it happen. You had those experiences. And when those doors close, age then allows you to experience a side of yourself you may not have considered before. You can’t play that sport? Then teach it! Don't allow yourself to dwell. Move on, make new memories, experience something different. 

Contrary to stigma, age is just another open door, a constant reminder that you are alive.  

So why does it matter if I’m old?

It doesn't! And you know what? I am going to OWN 20. 20 is going to be my year to shine. After that, I’ll go right ahead and make 21 my bitch. At 30, I’ll celebrate just how far I've come. Bring on the wrinkles, the stretch marks, the saggy ass and the age spots. Every mark and every wear and tear on my body will be a reminder of the experiences I've had. And If I’m lucky enough to live to be 80 or 100, I’ll be the happiest old biddy alive… simply because I lived.

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.  

The Beginning

So here I am, sitting on the edge of my bed, laptop resting on my bright pink doona, a glass of water in one hand and my brain completely empty of any witty or exciting one-liners to open my first blog post with. 

I thought it would be easy you know? Set up your blog, make it look pretty and BAM start sharing your ideas, thoughts and opinions with the world. Its such an exciting idea after all, I couldn't help but jump on the band wagon. 

But its not easy. I'm just your average girl. I have an uncontrollable obsession for ice-cream, a frightfully overcrowded bookshelf and a not-so-secret adoration for all things Disney...but I don't have a degree, important role in society or a vast knowledge base to share with you all. 

What I do have is passion. I'm passionate about all things creative. I guess you could say that I'm a bit of a dreamer. I strongly believe that the world is only limited by the depths of our imaginations. Perhaps the biggest representation of the capabilities of the human imagination is embodied by our books. 

I love books, I love writing, I love words. Words are beautiful.

(Facebook is literally my own personal hell. The next person who posts a status update with that monstrosity they dare to call a word, 'yous'...

 

                                                                      Link

 If only Facebook had an 'Ideas Box', I think an automated spellchecker is in desperate need.)

My biggest passion is writing. Its also my biggest problem. I've always wanted to be an author, I can't remember a time when I didn't. But I lack motivation and persistence. I can't simply stick with something until the end. I lose interest and eventually stop altogether. Which is where this blog comes in. 

I want to share my passion with the world, but I also want to find my motivation. Whilst I'm by no means an expert in Astrophysics and I certainly don't posses a Doctorate in Psychology or the like, I can share with you my life experiences, my trials and tribulations and I can bore you all with my intermittent rants about the general stupidity of drivers in Queensland.

And maybe, I can help others to find their motivation and their passions as well. I sincerely hope so.

On that note, good luck with your New Year's resolutions!