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Tuesday, June 1, 2010
I HAVE A NEW HOME
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Monday, May 24, 2010
When you want to be the artist of your own life....
Stay loose. Learn to watch snails. Plant impossible gardens. Invite someone dangerous to tea. Make little signs that say Yes! And post them all over the house. Make friends with freedom and uncertainty. Look forward to dreams. Cry during movies. Swing as high as you can on a swingset by moonlight. Cultivate moods. Refuse to “be responsible”. Do it for love. Take lots of naps. Give money away. Do it now. The money will follow. Believe in magic. Laugh a lot. Celebrate every gorgeous moment. Take moonbaths. Have wild imaginings, transformative dreams, and perfect calm. Draw on the walls. Read every day. Imagine yourself magic. Giggle with children. Listen to old people. Bless yourself. Drive away fear. Play with everything. Entertain your inner child. You are innocent. Build a fort with blankets. Get wet. Hug trees. Write love letters. Open up. Dive in. Be free.
By Sark.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
The Morning After
The water sloshes violently down my throat in my desperate bid to lift the drought, and its not just my sore throat crying out for it, but I can feel every emaciated cell reaching to the skies. And through the thudding I become aware of the shape beside me, sprawling, and snoring, with limbs hanging from the edge of the bed. The whole room smells like stale beer, and it seems like I passed out on my left shoulder again, as its contorted and bent beneath me and does not have the strength to move. I twist beneath the covers to alleviate the intense heat of a body in overdrive, realising that I’m still wearing last nights clothes. Who's bloody idea was this anyway.
I rise on one elbow and look at my boyfriend, there’s drool on his pillow. I look at my own, and mascara and red lipstick dance together in patterns across the slip. I don’t even want to think about my face, which feels thick with grime. I need to pee. Standing from the bed, the arch of my foot lands on the heel of the stilettos I left on the floor and I curse in pain, knowing full well thats where I always leave my heels. Stumbling forward completely disorientated, I clutch the door frame and slide my body along the hallway. My eyes refuse to focus.
After I wee, I stand feverishly over the toaster, begging for the dry toast to pop so that I can chew on my painkillers and swallow my vitamin B without throwing up. I glance out the window and a woman walks briskly past with her excited dog. I grit my teeth and send all her my negative energy, but the ache doesn’t go away. I think a poltergeist has ransacked my kicthen, the cupboard doors are swung open and partially eaten food is strewn across the table. I spy a kebab wrapper in the bin... Im going to feel that later.
Stumbling back down the hall, I wonder what caused the purple bruising on my shins, and where the hell my purse is. I open the front door to bring in some air and discover my keys still in the lock. Yeah, really clever.
My gut is churning and my stomach feels tight and bloated, Im not sure if I need to wee again, or throw up.
I pull out my earrings and all the pins from my hair and slip out of my clothes. I climb back into the hot bed, gulp some more water, and promise I will never ever drink again. I fall back asleep, praying for relief. Its only midday after all.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Happy May 17th
Today was momentous…. a little bump for the congregations of pilgrams who migrate from west to east... a mountain for me.
On the 17th of May every year I grant myself the opportunity to stop, step back, and congratulate my inner self. On the 17th of May 2007, I found truth in the idea that everything truly would be ok, and on the 17th on May 2007 and every subsequent year since, I find the strength and resolve to fight for everything I ever believe in and hold cherished.
This day three years ago I boarded that lonely midnight flight to the other side of the country. Broke, depressed, dependent, deserted…. and yet electricity humming under my skin begging to burst forth in a shower of blue sparks.
It has taken years for those sparks to illuminate the path I now walk. Three years and still, some years yet to come.
I wasn’t a girl when I came to this place, nor was I a woman. I was just a vacant body devoid of dreams and only harbouring the desire for something else. I’ve turned that ‘else’ into some and more.
You should see me now.
On the 17th of May every year I grant myself the opportunity to stop, step back, and congratulate my inner self. On the 17th of May 2007, I found truth in the idea that everything truly would be ok, and on the 17th on May 2007 and every subsequent year since, I find the strength and resolve to fight for everything I ever believe in and hold cherished.
This day three years ago I boarded that lonely midnight flight to the other side of the country. Broke, depressed, dependent, deserted…. and yet electricity humming under my skin begging to burst forth in a shower of blue sparks.
It has taken years for those sparks to illuminate the path I now walk. Three years and still, some years yet to come.
I wasn’t a girl when I came to this place, nor was I a woman. I was just a vacant body devoid of dreams and only harbouring the desire for something else. I’ve turned that ‘else’ into some and more.
You should see me now.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
She's almost here
I have this feeling, that its creeping up behind me, blowing the hairs on my neck and whispering promises in my ear. It’s a serendipitous visit from an old friend and flower from a stranger, curious and endearing.
Something amazing is going to happen.
Its in the shudder of the iron before the train appears on the bend, its her soft sigh as the gull rises to the wind. You can hear it coming, if youre paying attention, like the electric crackle in the air before the storm.
Its coming.
I wish I knew what it was, this tingling and anticipation.
It must be big.
I know you can feel it too sometimes. Its validated by the sparkle in my eyes - the secret I keep that I cannot voice - as I gaze to the horizon, clutching ticket in hand.
The ticket without print. Without destination.
I stand on the crumbling kerbside, willing my future to rumble over the hill into sight, to arrive with a fanfare of colour and laughter, and to sweep my suitcase of dreams and I away.
Something amazing is going to happen.
Its in the shudder of the iron before the train appears on the bend, its her soft sigh as the gull rises to the wind. You can hear it coming, if youre paying attention, like the electric crackle in the air before the storm.
Its coming.
I wish I knew what it was, this tingling and anticipation.
It must be big.
I know you can feel it too sometimes. Its validated by the sparkle in my eyes - the secret I keep that I cannot voice - as I gaze to the horizon, clutching ticket in hand.
The ticket without print. Without destination.
I stand on the crumbling kerbside, willing my future to rumble over the hill into sight, to arrive with a fanfare of colour and laughter, and to sweep my suitcase of dreams and I away.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Interview with Gary Newton
A few months ago I sat down with Gary and we talked about his role as a life and business coach. We probably ran overtime, and definately covered some interesting areas, but we shed some light on the mysteries of the coaching profession.
Then I spent HOURS editing! haha
You can find the entire interview and introduction over at Inspiration Unplugged.
http://inspirationunplugged.com/kaye-waterhouse-interviews-gary-newton/
To be honest, I may have been a little selfish in my endeavour to interview him, as Ive always been interested in Coaching so it was a way of having my questions answered. Hopefully you find it helpful too!
Then I spent HOURS editing! haha
You can find the entire interview and introduction over at Inspiration Unplugged.
http://inspirationunplugged.com/kaye-waterhouse-interviews-gary-newton/
To be honest, I may have been a little selfish in my endeavour to interview him, as Ive always been interested in Coaching so it was a way of having my questions answered. Hopefully you find it helpful too!
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
My name is Kaye and I eat Tim Tams at midnight
With my ever expanding network and ever decreasing time, I like to play 'stacks-on!' with the things that fill (and fulfill) my life. Ive been invited to write on the community blog Writers Rising, which is an absolute honour :o)
Follows is my first post, but make sure you head on over there and check them out... there is some serious talent to roll around in! And read, of course.
_____________________________
In the darkness of the closed door and drawn blinds, my face glows in the warmth of the monitor. Its sweet touch tickles my chin, my nose, and my brow before sparkling off my eyes. It’s still late (although maybe now it’s early) and I’m still typing. Finally.
Ive been dying to write now for weeks. But every day the monitor growls at me and falls back to sleep – unenthused with what I offer to the mercy of the keyboard. Its not enough. Once upon a time I toyed with being a ‘writer’. I entertained the notion that I could write always, effortlessly, and continually and maybe, just maybe, make ‘a living’ from my pursuit. But perhaps I was guilty of dividing my attention elsewhere, second-guessing any talent (see what I did there?), and jumping on the merry-perfectionist bandwagon driven by dear old friend, Procrastination. Whichever way, Ive got plenty of excuses lined up as to why Monitor and I do not cooperate more often than we do. Oh but when we do its glorious! But mostly we are a bickering belligerent old couple. And I begin to resign myself to the fact that I can never create nor direct my desire to write… it happens when it happens. And that’s why my title generally reads, ‘Design student slash professional slash model’, more often than ‘Writer’.
I recently visited a life coach. That should sound empowering, but in my control freak/highly self-sufficient mind, to say that aloud is like standing up in a room of equally bedraggled and ashamed faces to say, “I ate an entire box of Tim Tams last night at 1am while everyone else slept”. Everyone has been there, but no-one wants to be brutally honest with a stranger. So as you can imagine, its a little confronting to say the least. Oh don’t get me wrong, aside from the nauseating anxiety thrashing around in the pit of my stomach, my coach is very good(!). But I had much difficulty trying to articulate in words and on paper what my ideal/dream life could have in it. Quite clearly the only thing I knew for certain when he asked me what I would attempt if I knew that everything I did would be enough and perfect was, “Something else”. But I don’t think I even told him that. I thought about how much I tried to squeeze into my life every day and thought, do I really have to write? It takes up so much of time, it doesn’t achieve anything, there are no rewards, benefits, goals or recognition (not by my measuring stick anyway). Had I made a mistake entirely with any pursuit of this vision thus far?
Intense right?
Yet, ultimately the moment I was drawn back to my slightly obsessive and yet truly sporadic jaunts through the land of language, I stopped thinking about all these things. There was only one thing I felt as I poured whatever thoughts I had onto the screen (Im a bit new-fashioned that way, I rarely use a pen). And it was joy. And the screen beckoned me into its purring embrace.
I had stopped measuring my writing by the good old joystick (and Im not talking about circa-1998 Nintendo64). I was looking at the ‘things’ I could get for my efforts, rather than taking the one thing that I knew was guaranteed… Joy. Why would I ever do something I didn’t want to? And similarly, why wouldn’t I do something I enjoyed so much?? It may be sporadic, it may be obsessive, and it may rob me of my sleep at obscure times (she says, dimming the lights on the bedside clock that grin in agreement) but it’s FUN. I work two jobs and study a degree qualification – writing is my solace, my therapist, my meditation and my medication, my joy, and my fun. And I don’t do it for anything else.
My name is Kaye Waterhouse, your newest addition to Writers Rising. I am 25, living in Melbourne, Australia. Quite possibly everything you’ll ever need to know about me, you’ll find
Here; http://www.klarityandkaos.blogspot.com/
Here; http://www.designfits.wordpress.com/
And here; http://www.inspirationunplugged.com/
And subsequent entries at Writers Rising. Im thrilled to join you :o)
K
Follows is my first post, but make sure you head on over there and check them out... there is some serious talent to roll around in! And read, of course.
_____________________________
In the darkness of the closed door and drawn blinds, my face glows in the warmth of the monitor. Its sweet touch tickles my chin, my nose, and my brow before sparkling off my eyes. It’s still late (although maybe now it’s early) and I’m still typing. Finally.
Ive been dying to write now for weeks. But every day the monitor growls at me and falls back to sleep – unenthused with what I offer to the mercy of the keyboard. Its not enough. Once upon a time I toyed with being a ‘writer’. I entertained the notion that I could write always, effortlessly, and continually and maybe, just maybe, make ‘a living’ from my pursuit. But perhaps I was guilty of dividing my attention elsewhere, second-guessing any talent (see what I did there?), and jumping on the merry-perfectionist bandwagon driven by dear old friend, Procrastination. Whichever way, Ive got plenty of excuses lined up as to why Monitor and I do not cooperate more often than we do. Oh but when we do its glorious! But mostly we are a bickering belligerent old couple. And I begin to resign myself to the fact that I can never create nor direct my desire to write… it happens when it happens. And that’s why my title generally reads, ‘Design student slash professional slash model’, more often than ‘Writer’.
I recently visited a life coach. That should sound empowering, but in my control freak/highly self-sufficient mind, to say that aloud is like standing up in a room of equally bedraggled and ashamed faces to say, “I ate an entire box of Tim Tams last night at 1am while everyone else slept”. Everyone has been there, but no-one wants to be brutally honest with a stranger. So as you can imagine, its a little confronting to say the least. Oh don’t get me wrong, aside from the nauseating anxiety thrashing around in the pit of my stomach, my coach is very good(!). But I had much difficulty trying to articulate in words and on paper what my ideal/dream life could have in it. Quite clearly the only thing I knew for certain when he asked me what I would attempt if I knew that everything I did would be enough and perfect was, “Something else”. But I don’t think I even told him that. I thought about how much I tried to squeeze into my life every day and thought, do I really have to write? It takes up so much of time, it doesn’t achieve anything, there are no rewards, benefits, goals or recognition (not by my measuring stick anyway). Had I made a mistake entirely with any pursuit of this vision thus far?
Intense right?
Yet, ultimately the moment I was drawn back to my slightly obsessive and yet truly sporadic jaunts through the land of language, I stopped thinking about all these things. There was only one thing I felt as I poured whatever thoughts I had onto the screen (Im a bit new-fashioned that way, I rarely use a pen). And it was joy. And the screen beckoned me into its purring embrace.
I had stopped measuring my writing by the good old joystick (and Im not talking about circa-1998 Nintendo64). I was looking at the ‘things’ I could get for my efforts, rather than taking the one thing that I knew was guaranteed… Joy. Why would I ever do something I didn’t want to? And similarly, why wouldn’t I do something I enjoyed so much?? It may be sporadic, it may be obsessive, and it may rob me of my sleep at obscure times (she says, dimming the lights on the bedside clock that grin in agreement) but it’s FUN. I work two jobs and study a degree qualification – writing is my solace, my therapist, my meditation and my medication, my joy, and my fun. And I don’t do it for anything else.
My name is Kaye Waterhouse, your newest addition to Writers Rising. I am 25, living in Melbourne, Australia. Quite possibly everything you’ll ever need to know about me, you’ll find
Here; http://www.klarityandkaos.blogspot.com/
Here; http://www.designfits.wordpress.com/
And here; http://www.inspirationunplugged.com/
And subsequent entries at Writers Rising. Im thrilled to join you :o)
K
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Gratitude should be a verb
Reposted from my entry at Inspiration Unplugged
Gratitude should be a verb, not a noun.
In primary school, we were taught that nouns were ‘people, places, and things’, and verbs were ‘doing’ and ‘action’ words. Sure, the act of ‘expressing’ gratitude is a verb, but gratitude is a constantly evolving and growing and fluctuating process, a unrelenting and desirable internal dialogue with oneself, a feeling of appreciation…. a ‘doing’ word.
An associate on facebook posted the following note the other day;
It really was disastrous. I got sick, and I couldn’t shake the headaches. I lived on caffeine, and I slept poorly. My school work didn’t get done, and everything that could go wrong with technology, taxi’s, getting lost, etc… did. I couldn’t postpone the photoshoot as I had committed to a team (and to be honest I needed the money and the addition to my folio) and I couldn’t turn the Sydney project down as it my first foray into this kind of project work. And knowing that I was missing classes and submission deadlines was doing my perfectionist head in.
But over the days, as I thought about gratitude, and what drove me to do all these things (simultaneously) I realized I was in amazing position. I had a free trip to Sydney all expenses paid, I got to visit my girlfriend in her new city and explore it myself. I got to be a part of an amazing project and push my career professionally. I had secured a lucrative modeling campaign that enabled me to contribute the first of funds to my house deposit, not to mention expand my network, and I was developing an awareness of what my personal priorities were and should be. It was only the flick of a switch, and when people asked how it was going, I started to say ‘interesting!’ instead of ‘exhausting’.
Gratitude turns our problems into lessons and gifts, failures into successes of experience and knowledge, it makes the unexpected into perfect timing, and mistakes into significant events. Gratitude is a mindset easily flipped into a positive state. You can be grateful for the bad things that happen to you as well as the good. You may be cursing that hangover, but alternatively be grateful for the courage those few glasses of wine gave you to chat up that cute person and get their number. I know I was!! ;)
The act of being grateful rests on choice. YOU choose whether a scenario is a catastrophe, or a beautiful lesson.
A few months ago I started keeping a gratitude journal following a very dark period of existence. I aimed for three things every day that I was grateful for, even if it was as simple as ‘remembering an umbrella on the day that it rained’ or as obvious as ‘getting promoted’. A lot of the time I couldn’t think of three things… its harder than you think. On those days I wrote down what a stranger may be grateful for…. No queues at the supermarket, a warm bed to sleep in for once, a newborn child. These things reminded me that gratitude was specific yet different for every person, and those who had a lot less (in my eyes) actually had more than enough. Even if I couldn’t find my own positive light at the end of the day, I could at least see someone elses.
Its not a new concept, its not even ‘new-age’. Its just pure fact… if you are truly grateful for the activity, state or object, then what you have (or have experienced) is valuable to YOU, and enough. It is simple economics – supply will never meet demand, and the same goes for the human psyche. The more we learn, the more we realise how much we dont know, so there is always that desire reach beyond. The sad thing is most of us will never touch the wall with our outstretched fingers, because we continue to move it further away. The more money we make, the more things we want to buy, the more we see the world, the more we want to travel, the more opportunities that present themselves, the more we take on and the less time we have, and the more successful we are, the more awareness we develop around how more successful we could become. It is a cycle of events that is unrelenting and expands ripple apon ripple, unless we find one thing; gratitude.
Gratitude should be a verb, not a noun.
In primary school, we were taught that nouns were ‘people, places, and things’, and verbs were ‘doing’ and ‘action’ words. Sure, the act of ‘expressing’ gratitude is a verb, but gratitude is a constantly evolving and growing and fluctuating process, a unrelenting and desirable internal dialogue with oneself, a feeling of appreciation…. a ‘doing’ word.
An associate on facebook posted the following note the other day;
How can we be happy in the moment we’re in if the world we live is conditioned to make us want more.…and my answer was so simple I even questioned it myself. Be grateful. And for the following days I thought about what it TRULY meant to be grateful, and what benefits one could see by living in a state of gratitude. It just seemed too simple to my over analytical state of mind!
How can we feel content in life when we are programmed to need more than is realistically necessary in order to feel bliss.
How do we strip our needs back to basics when people who expect the very thing we despise surround us.
Am I born in the wrong time if all I want is to live in a tree yet need to commercialize to climb it.
Is there a happy medium between having nothing and having too much.
How do we move forward when the destination consumes us so much we no longer like the journey.
Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow. Melody BeattieLast week I had to fly to Sydney to work on a new interior design project for the firm. It involved 10 hour days of data collection on workstyles, on my feet carrying a laptop. At the end of each day I was completely exhausted… too exhausted to sit in my hotel room and work on my two uni assignments, due on the day I returned to Melbourne. Over the weekend, I did fly back, late on Friday night and modeled in two days of shoots from 7am until 5pm both Saturday and Sunday before flying back to Sydney on Sunday night.
It really was disastrous. I got sick, and I couldn’t shake the headaches. I lived on caffeine, and I slept poorly. My school work didn’t get done, and everything that could go wrong with technology, taxi’s, getting lost, etc… did. I couldn’t postpone the photoshoot as I had committed to a team (and to be honest I needed the money and the addition to my folio) and I couldn’t turn the Sydney project down as it my first foray into this kind of project work. And knowing that I was missing classes and submission deadlines was doing my perfectionist head in.
But over the days, as I thought about gratitude, and what drove me to do all these things (simultaneously) I realized I was in amazing position. I had a free trip to Sydney all expenses paid, I got to visit my girlfriend in her new city and explore it myself. I got to be a part of an amazing project and push my career professionally. I had secured a lucrative modeling campaign that enabled me to contribute the first of funds to my house deposit, not to mention expand my network, and I was developing an awareness of what my personal priorities were and should be. It was only the flick of a switch, and when people asked how it was going, I started to say ‘interesting!’ instead of ‘exhausting’.
Gratitude turns our problems into lessons and gifts, failures into successes of experience and knowledge, it makes the unexpected into perfect timing, and mistakes into significant events. Gratitude is a mindset easily flipped into a positive state. You can be grateful for the bad things that happen to you as well as the good. You may be cursing that hangover, but alternatively be grateful for the courage those few glasses of wine gave you to chat up that cute person and get their number. I know I was!! ;)
The act of being grateful rests on choice. YOU choose whether a scenario is a catastrophe, or a beautiful lesson.
A few months ago I started keeping a gratitude journal following a very dark period of existence. I aimed for three things every day that I was grateful for, even if it was as simple as ‘remembering an umbrella on the day that it rained’ or as obvious as ‘getting promoted’. A lot of the time I couldn’t think of three things… its harder than you think. On those days I wrote down what a stranger may be grateful for…. No queues at the supermarket, a warm bed to sleep in for once, a newborn child. These things reminded me that gratitude was specific yet different for every person, and those who had a lot less (in my eyes) actually had more than enough. Even if I couldn’t find my own positive light at the end of the day, I could at least see someone elses.
Its not a new concept, its not even ‘new-age’. Its just pure fact… if you are truly grateful for the activity, state or object, then what you have (or have experienced) is valuable to YOU, and enough. It is simple economics – supply will never meet demand, and the same goes for the human psyche. The more we learn, the more we realise how much we dont know, so there is always that desire reach beyond. The sad thing is most of us will never touch the wall with our outstretched fingers, because we continue to move it further away. The more money we make, the more things we want to buy, the more we see the world, the more we want to travel, the more opportunities that present themselves, the more we take on and the less time we have, and the more successful we are, the more awareness we develop around how more successful we could become. It is a cycle of events that is unrelenting and expands ripple apon ripple, unless we find one thing; gratitude.
I did it! Written Worlds 2010
Written Worlds Melbourne was a great success. I tend to ramble but hey, thats ok I guess! I had fun and I got to meet some great people. And I realised how truly passionate I am about my writing and content and how much more Id like to write, so Im setting out to put pen to paper alot more often and maybe turn it into a little job on the side.
I met some people who were truly inspired by what I had to say and told me so afterwards. I was really humbled and flattered that they enjoyed my words and were motivated to write themselves by what they saw on the screen from me. It was awesome!
You can download Part 1 of the Podcast here: http://www.freelancerunplugged.com/ (click on "Podcast" on the right hand side) and then choose Written Worlds Part 1 (and keep an eye out for the next parts!).
I met some people who were truly inspired by what I had to say and told me so afterwards. I was really humbled and flattered that they enjoyed my words and were motivated to write themselves by what they saw on the screen from me. It was awesome!
You can download Part 1 of the Podcast here: http://www.freelancerunplugged.com/ (click on "Podcast" on the right hand side) and then choose Written Worlds Part 1 (and keep an eye out for the next parts!).
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Written Worlds - Melbourne
.
Two days till Written Worlds…. not sure if Im going to pee out of excitement or fear!!
Two days till Written Worlds…. not sure if Im going to pee out of excitement or fear!!
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Letters in your lunchbox
.
Sometimes…. youre having a really shit day and sometimes…. a 20x10 piece of paper can make the WORLD of difference
Sometimes…. youre having a really shit day and sometimes…. a 20x10 piece of paper can make the WORLD of difference
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Inspiring Women - The 10thousandgirl campaign
Check out the new post on Inspiration Unplugged here, where I look at the new breed of the inspired and socially responsible!
xx K
xx K
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
University Anxiety
I can’t pretend that I’m not very afraid. I’m returning to university in two weeks after a summer off, and all I can see in front of my eyes is me on the floor of my study, November last year, surrounded by unfinished work, completely numb and bawling my eyes out. Id smacked into a brick wall and yet again, failed to submit my final assessment. The clincher of such a repetitive activity, is that… I still pull a Distinction… even after flaking out on a submission worth 20% to 30% of my final mark. What does that tell me (aside from the fact that Im an idiot)? That I could do SO much better, but I cant.
I am afraid that school work will be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. I work fulltime, so I cant assume it would ever have been easy, Im not that naïve. But I was accepted into a double degree this year, so I am adding economics, management, accounting, law, and HR policy to my burgeoning workload. The double degree adds two years to my qualification, so for any sense of graduating before I’m due for retirement altogether, I need to increase my study load. To do this, I have dropped one day a week at work, which may sound helpful but in reality, it simply allows me to squeeze all my units into a day… that’s 9 hours of classes. And Im taking a 20% paycut in salary, a kind of stress I don’t need.
Jimmy is wonderful, suggesting that he take up the slack on rent, and he has picked up a second job. Im still modelling and that is still bringing in income, but I’m exceptionally strapped for time, so it’s a little hard to shoot. And you know, it sounds like I don’t want any of this – but I do want to go back to school and learn and graduate and apply my skills every day. I just keep seeing that girl on the floor, hanging onto the chair with white knuckles and wondering why she is there again. Here again.
2010 was supposed to be my year. Yet it just seems more like the year where I hang on for dear life, with my nails, on the bridge, over the river in the ravine. God I hope I remember how to swim...
I am afraid that school work will be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. I work fulltime, so I cant assume it would ever have been easy, Im not that naïve. But I was accepted into a double degree this year, so I am adding economics, management, accounting, law, and HR policy to my burgeoning workload. The double degree adds two years to my qualification, so for any sense of graduating before I’m due for retirement altogether, I need to increase my study load. To do this, I have dropped one day a week at work, which may sound helpful but in reality, it simply allows me to squeeze all my units into a day… that’s 9 hours of classes. And Im taking a 20% paycut in salary, a kind of stress I don’t need.
Jimmy is wonderful, suggesting that he take up the slack on rent, and he has picked up a second job. Im still modelling and that is still bringing in income, but I’m exceptionally strapped for time, so it’s a little hard to shoot. And you know, it sounds like I don’t want any of this – but I do want to go back to school and learn and graduate and apply my skills every day. I just keep seeing that girl on the floor, hanging onto the chair with white knuckles and wondering why she is there again. Here again.
2010 was supposed to be my year. Yet it just seems more like the year where I hang on for dear life, with my nails, on the bridge, over the river in the ravine. God I hope I remember how to swim...
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
To be lost
"Have you ever been at sea in a dense fog, when it seemed as if a tangible white darkness shut you in and the great ship, tense and anxious, groped her way toward the shore with plummet and sounding-line, and you waited with beating heart for something to happen? I was like that ship before my education began, only I was without compass or sounding line, and no way of knowing how near the harbor was. "Light! Give me light!" was the wordless cry of my soul, and the light of love shone on me in that very hour".
Helen Keller.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Denial is not a river in Egypt
I’ve had some interesting comments following the new life of Inspiration Unplugged. Mostly from people who had no idea I was a writer (or blogger, take your pick). I’ve had positive feedback, and that’s kind of nice for someone who never really told anyone about her ‘hobby’. But then I wonder why I’ve never told anybody about something I’ve done all my life? I’ve always been writing, in fact I think I have some sort of obsession with the formation of words. I’m weird, but mind you, so is every other writer out there.
When Im not writing poetry or short stories or sad ramblings or epic twitter & facebook updates (yes, these count!) then Im writing lists, plans, objectives, goals, ideas, introductions, thoughts, quotes and every other little thing that can be on paper or .doc format. I always have done, and notebooks with little ramblings and lists are stacked all over my study, and mostly they don’t make sense. But I need that paper and I need that pen… or my Outlook (in fact Im typing this post into an email as we speak… please tell me somebody else does this!?)
When I was an angst-ridden teen, Id write letters to myself, and to my parents. When I first fell in love I spilled everything onto paper, and when I fell out of love I spilled again. I’ve written hate letters and love letters and poems and short stories and have two of those wonderful little things we called the ‘unfinished novel’. But I’ve never gone, “Hey, I’m a writer”. Ah Kaye but why? I don’t write for a profession, in fact I’m supposed to be a designer, and as a passion I am nowhere near as prolific as some passionate writers. As a rule I generally cant write more than 1000 words… ever, unless its an essay for uni and then well, Im just the Queen of Bullshitting to get to my word count. But I still get really good marks. See? Weird…. And now if I include Inspiration Unplugged, I have a daily planner, three blogs, two twitter accounts, two facebook accounts, a really cute journal, and a university degree to get through. There’s no escaping the truth of the matter – I'm a wr.... wrrrrr... wrrriii
Ive given up trying to pinpoint why I have this word-diarrhoea, my partner thinks its because I have a million cogs turning in my head and the only way to organise them all is to get it out on paper. You’d be surprised how well I sleep after I babbled some useless guff into the notebook on my bedside table. But the more I try to analyse it, the more it doesn’t make any sense, and then I write about my confusion and Im back to square one. Hell, I dont even know if Im any GOOD, maybe you folks are just being nice, but Im pretty sure that Ive worked out that I enjoy doing it. So these days I just go with the flow. Sometimes I won’t write for months, and then write non-stop for a week… it’s just how I do it. In truth, if I was a professional writer, I’d be fired.
So when the crew behind the scenes at Freelancer Unplugged put me forward as a speaker on the panel at the Written Worlds event, I thought I was going to hyperventilate. I truly said to myself, “But Im not a writer!”. But what am I doing now? Writing about it.
Again, Weird.
Im trying not to think about that event too much, yes granted most of the time you cannot get me to shut up, but in front of a room of 50 people?? There’s that voice again, “But Im not a speaker! And what’s worse, I have to speak about writing, and Im not a writer!”. Its enough to give any writer a heart attack.
Written Worlds Event - Melbourne
When Im not writing poetry or short stories or sad ramblings or epic twitter & facebook updates (yes, these count!) then Im writing lists, plans, objectives, goals, ideas, introductions, thoughts, quotes and every other little thing that can be on paper or .doc format. I always have done, and notebooks with little ramblings and lists are stacked all over my study, and mostly they don’t make sense. But I need that paper and I need that pen… or my Outlook (in fact Im typing this post into an email as we speak… please tell me somebody else does this!?)
When I was an angst-ridden teen, Id write letters to myself, and to my parents. When I first fell in love I spilled everything onto paper, and when I fell out of love I spilled again. I’ve written hate letters and love letters and poems and short stories and have two of those wonderful little things we called the ‘unfinished novel’. But I’ve never gone, “Hey, I’m a writer”. Ah Kaye but why? I don’t write for a profession, in fact I’m supposed to be a designer, and as a passion I am nowhere near as prolific as some passionate writers. As a rule I generally cant write more than 1000 words… ever, unless its an essay for uni and then well, Im just the Queen of Bullshitting to get to my word count. But I still get really good marks. See? Weird…. And now if I include Inspiration Unplugged, I have a daily planner, three blogs, two twitter accounts, two facebook accounts, a really cute journal, and a university degree to get through. There’s no escaping the truth of the matter – I'm a wr.... wrrrrr... wrrriii
Ive given up trying to pinpoint why I have this word-diarrhoea, my partner thinks its because I have a million cogs turning in my head and the only way to organise them all is to get it out on paper. You’d be surprised how well I sleep after I babbled some useless guff into the notebook on my bedside table. But the more I try to analyse it, the more it doesn’t make any sense, and then I write about my confusion and Im back to square one. Hell, I dont even know if Im any GOOD, maybe you folks are just being nice, but Im pretty sure that Ive worked out that I enjoy doing it. So these days I just go with the flow. Sometimes I won’t write for months, and then write non-stop for a week… it’s just how I do it. In truth, if I was a professional writer, I’d be fired.
So when the crew behind the scenes at Freelancer Unplugged put me forward as a speaker on the panel at the Written Worlds event, I thought I was going to hyperventilate. I truly said to myself, “But Im not a writer!”. But what am I doing now? Writing about it.
Again, Weird.
Im trying not to think about that event too much, yes granted most of the time you cannot get me to shut up, but in front of a room of 50 people?? There’s that voice again, “But Im not a speaker! And what’s worse, I have to speak about writing, and Im not a writer!”. Its enough to give any writer a heart attack.
Written Worlds Event - Melbourne
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Letting people go
Jimmy’s grandma died on Wednesday. Bless her soul, at 93 she was still living on her own and self-caring; such a woman to admire, a mother, grandmother, and great grandmother. Early afternoon, she was weeding the garden in her yard when she collapsed, found by the neighbour who called for an ambulance that rushed her to the local hospital. With a heartbeat, and breathing, they tried to make her regain consciousness to no avail. Anna told me that she died how she (and probably most people) have ever wanted.... ‘you couldn’t have written a better script’. There was no riddling of cancer, or horrific accident, or slow hospitalised wasting away. Just a sudden bright flash, and a massive stroke, collapsing with a handful of weeds clutched in her palm. The doctors doubted if she even knew what was happening, the stroke was so severe it dominated her brain scans. Life support was switched off that evening, surrounded by the whole family.
And it got me thinking (as any death does) while I was standing by her side. She was such an institution in the family, and to see her entire family gathered around to grieve is possibly the most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed to date. It may sound strange to call such a spectacle ‘beautiful’, but these were people I had never seen cry before.... The shock of mortality had drawn everyone into a stunning web of love and support. The tears, while sad and longing, still spoke of a woman they all admired so much. In the waiting room, after the computers and life support systems went black and her heart beat began to fade away, there was laughter. They began to share stories about how strong she was, her uncanny character traits, and the fact that her Grandson, far away, was preparing to be a father for the first time, and grandma was simply making room for the next little addition to her kingdom, another great grandchild. They shared stories about her life, and how she chose this death, and they made plans to share the news with the world. Everyone was so organised amongst the grief. I wasn’t sure if it was because of her age (every extra year was a gift) or that was how they grieved, but I watched in wonder at this amazing family dynamic. The usually quiet family members took charge, the ‘rocks’ of the family broke down and let the pain go. And I wondered how my family would ever cope with such a thing.... time will, unfortunately, tell. I can only hope the passing of any of my eldest family members will be just as beautiful, surrounded by those you love, who can kiss your softened face goodbye, happy in the knowledge that there was no suffering, and only a celebration of life.
All my love Grandma Dot.
x
And it got me thinking (as any death does) while I was standing by her side. She was such an institution in the family, and to see her entire family gathered around to grieve is possibly the most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed to date. It may sound strange to call such a spectacle ‘beautiful’, but these were people I had never seen cry before.... The shock of mortality had drawn everyone into a stunning web of love and support. The tears, while sad and longing, still spoke of a woman they all admired so much. In the waiting room, after the computers and life support systems went black and her heart beat began to fade away, there was laughter. They began to share stories about how strong she was, her uncanny character traits, and the fact that her Grandson, far away, was preparing to be a father for the first time, and grandma was simply making room for the next little addition to her kingdom, another great grandchild. They shared stories about her life, and how she chose this death, and they made plans to share the news with the world. Everyone was so organised amongst the grief. I wasn’t sure if it was because of her age (every extra year was a gift) or that was how they grieved, but I watched in wonder at this amazing family dynamic. The usually quiet family members took charge, the ‘rocks’ of the family broke down and let the pain go. And I wondered how my family would ever cope with such a thing.... time will, unfortunately, tell. I can only hope the passing of any of my eldest family members will be just as beautiful, surrounded by those you love, who can kiss your softened face goodbye, happy in the knowledge that there was no suffering, and only a celebration of life.
All my love Grandma Dot.
x
Friday, January 15, 2010
What to do when you’re having a bad day;
Picnic lunch with a girlfriend, complete with turkey and cranberry wraps, hams and salad, and cold watermelon, and a bottle of chilled vino…. in the sunshine, by the river in the city!
If only it was for the entire afternoon, not just my lunch break!
Bad day begone! :)
If only it was for the entire afternoon, not just my lunch break!
Bad day begone! :)
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Aerial departures.
.
Its so beautiful down there; miles and miles of hot scorched land, peppered by trees and carved by property lines. The salt plains, dried out dams, and parched grass spread out across a fawn coloured patchwork in an intricate tapestry of earth.
I knew it was a hard life down there, sparse and unrelenting, but I wanted to be as close as possible. Nose pressed to the glass, it had quickly become my favourite part of the whole cross continental journey. I wanted to take a photo but gave up on the idea - nothing was going to capture my sense of awe, and my measly camera would not portray the depth and vastness of my field of vision.
I swallowed the lump in my throat but it rose again. Its not the way I wanted to leave, but if it had to be that way, then so be it. There are some things you have to fight for, and others that you let go.
Its so beautiful down there; miles and miles of hot scorched land, peppered by trees and carved by property lines. The salt plains, dried out dams, and parched grass spread out across a fawn coloured patchwork in an intricate tapestry of earth.
I knew it was a hard life down there, sparse and unrelenting, but I wanted to be as close as possible. Nose pressed to the glass, it had quickly become my favourite part of the whole cross continental journey. I wanted to take a photo but gave up on the idea - nothing was going to capture my sense of awe, and my measly camera would not portray the depth and vastness of my field of vision.
I swallowed the lump in my throat but it rose again. Its not the way I wanted to leave, but if it had to be that way, then so be it. There are some things you have to fight for, and others that you let go.
Monday, January 4, 2010
New Years Resolutions - The ol' Cliche
Easily the most blogged topic on January first? Well I waited for one on my compatriots to allude to New Years Resolutions on Inspiration Unplugged, but nothing happened! Im not sure if they’re not the resolution type, or if its been so hounded by mass media that its become a dirty word. Every chemist I drive past has specials on quit smoking packs and slim-fast shakes. My old gyms (yes, I have several) send me promotional material on helping me to conquer my resolution for weight loss. Wait, I have a resolution for weight loss?!
Oh its been an interesting year. Ive made lots of new friends, and gently extradited those who broke the rules. Ive had doors opened wide professionally, and waited for things that never eventuated. I made resolute choices that I never followed through, and things happened that Id never planned. And yet TwentyTen arrives, as much as I tried to slow its approach. I love the New Years & Christmas period because it means I spend time with those I love, work falls quiet, and it gives me a chance to pause and reflect on the year that has been. Looking back is as important as looking forward. Im not big on the making of new years resolutions ON new years eve, but I have goals, and I think that this time of year is the perfect opportunity to reassess them. The first few weeks of January are my quietest... so off I go.
I think people dont make new years resolutions, or pass them off as rubbish, because year after year they fail to meet them, and the next year they find themselves wanting that elusive ambition from the year before. Everyone has goals and ambitions and dreams, no matter how big or small. Perhaps they view resolutions as a waste of time, as something else that gets in the way and is inevitably failed, so why set yourself up to seek immediate gratification when all you’ll get is immediate loss? Herein lies the problem to why people never achieve the things they dream of; Buying that house, travelling, losing weight, quitting smoking, salsa classes (that one is my own). Some people make their resolution ...and they naturally don’t follow through, but it isn’t about counting down to midnight then deciding what you will do for the next year (or your life). Those ‘new years eve resolutions’ are goals that we have set with no thought put into them.
REAL New Years resolutions (or whatever we decide to call them) take time to conceive... you cannot simply want the change to happen and it comes true... Goals are not achieved by your fairy godmother. They are reached through eons of hard work and perseverance. And yes, you may go off track, lose motivation, but you will never fail. You can never fail to quit smoking... because as long as you are smoking – you have the ability to quit!
Maybe people struggle because they’re CALLED resolutions? You’ve resolved to do something and suddenly that’s it? Not bloody likely. Don’t think for a second that just because you have a resolution, that the hard part is over. Maybe we should rename the whole concept. Why do people plan on eating a healthy diet and then fail? Because they made a resolve, not a goal. Goals are S.M.A.R.T (yes, you’ve probably all heard that before, but its TRUE!). If you cant cook, then learn. If your cupboard is full of crap... clear it out before you start. Plan recipes, shopping lists, packed lunch etc. Don’t make excuses, make a plan.
And you have to understand that your goals are allowed to change, you have permission to change your mind, change your plan, change the track. What you want now may not be what you want in 6 months time and that’s ok. As long as you are still reaching for them, they can be anything you want whenever you want. Have yourself a mid-year NYE shindig, and set your goals again. Or take some time off to regroup... refocus.
So i think new years resolutions are fabulous if the time and effort are put into them. Hell, if you want, you don’t have to think of anything until April! Its still a resolution/goal. You don’t just ‘come up’ with something and hope for the best – you put the wheels in motion to get it. Lose weight? Personal trainer, gym membership, training partner, get a dog, cancel your parking on the 1st floor and go to the 8th floor and take the stairs. Get off the bus 3 stops too early and walk the rest. Whatever! just make a plan before you make the resolution.
And so i hear all this talk about goals for 2010, in the media, in advertising, online and from my friends, and slowly in my head i am working mine out. Ive got resolutions for travel, work, school, and personal fulfillment. That part is easy because Im one of the lucky ones who know what they want... the hard part is planning how to get there, and how to tackle the obstacles when they (certainly) come. How are yours going? Hit me up if you’d like help, I’ve been doing them for oh, I don’t know… 15 years?! and I’ve made some mistakes I fortunately wont repeat, and some otherwise awesome progress.
And um……. know any good Salsa classes?? Happy New Year.
Non est ad astra mollis e terris via - There is no easy way from the earth to the stars
Oh its been an interesting year. Ive made lots of new friends, and gently extradited those who broke the rules. Ive had doors opened wide professionally, and waited for things that never eventuated. I made resolute choices that I never followed through, and things happened that Id never planned. And yet TwentyTen arrives, as much as I tried to slow its approach. I love the New Years & Christmas period because it means I spend time with those I love, work falls quiet, and it gives me a chance to pause and reflect on the year that has been. Looking back is as important as looking forward. Im not big on the making of new years resolutions ON new years eve, but I have goals, and I think that this time of year is the perfect opportunity to reassess them. The first few weeks of January are my quietest... so off I go.
I think people dont make new years resolutions, or pass them off as rubbish, because year after year they fail to meet them, and the next year they find themselves wanting that elusive ambition from the year before. Everyone has goals and ambitions and dreams, no matter how big or small. Perhaps they view resolutions as a waste of time, as something else that gets in the way and is inevitably failed, so why set yourself up to seek immediate gratification when all you’ll get is immediate loss? Herein lies the problem to why people never achieve the things they dream of; Buying that house, travelling, losing weight, quitting smoking, salsa classes (that one is my own). Some people make their resolution ...and they naturally don’t follow through, but it isn’t about counting down to midnight then deciding what you will do for the next year (or your life). Those ‘new years eve resolutions’ are goals that we have set with no thought put into them.
REAL New Years resolutions (or whatever we decide to call them) take time to conceive... you cannot simply want the change to happen and it comes true... Goals are not achieved by your fairy godmother. They are reached through eons of hard work and perseverance. And yes, you may go off track, lose motivation, but you will never fail. You can never fail to quit smoking... because as long as you are smoking – you have the ability to quit!
Maybe people struggle because they’re CALLED resolutions? You’ve resolved to do something and suddenly that’s it? Not bloody likely. Don’t think for a second that just because you have a resolution, that the hard part is over. Maybe we should rename the whole concept. Why do people plan on eating a healthy diet and then fail? Because they made a resolve, not a goal. Goals are S.M.A.R.T (yes, you’ve probably all heard that before, but its TRUE!). If you cant cook, then learn. If your cupboard is full of crap... clear it out before you start. Plan recipes, shopping lists, packed lunch etc. Don’t make excuses, make a plan.
And you have to understand that your goals are allowed to change, you have permission to change your mind, change your plan, change the track. What you want now may not be what you want in 6 months time and that’s ok. As long as you are still reaching for them, they can be anything you want whenever you want. Have yourself a mid-year NYE shindig, and set your goals again. Or take some time off to regroup... refocus.
So i think new years resolutions are fabulous if the time and effort are put into them. Hell, if you want, you don’t have to think of anything until April! Its still a resolution/goal. You don’t just ‘come up’ with something and hope for the best – you put the wheels in motion to get it. Lose weight? Personal trainer, gym membership, training partner, get a dog, cancel your parking on the 1st floor and go to the 8th floor and take the stairs. Get off the bus 3 stops too early and walk the rest. Whatever! just make a plan before you make the resolution.
And so i hear all this talk about goals for 2010, in the media, in advertising, online and from my friends, and slowly in my head i am working mine out. Ive got resolutions for travel, work, school, and personal fulfillment. That part is easy because Im one of the lucky ones who know what they want... the hard part is planning how to get there, and how to tackle the obstacles when they (certainly) come. How are yours going? Hit me up if you’d like help, I’ve been doing them for oh, I don’t know… 15 years?! and I’ve made some mistakes I fortunately wont repeat, and some otherwise awesome progress.
And um……. know any good Salsa classes?? Happy New Year.
Non est ad astra mollis e terris via - There is no easy way from the earth to the stars
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