The dreams of a dreamer.

We all have dreams. We have them while we sleep or when we’re awake. We daydream. They’re things we may never accomplish but that’s why they’re our dreams in the first place. Imagining that we can accomplish near impossible feats of strength or perform skills we never thought we would be able to do are but a few of the kinds of things we dream of doing. Going on grand adventures to battle evil and save those in peril are ideas of grandeur which seem to be inherent but my dreams, these days, are a little closer to home.

I used to dream of being a badass superhero who beat the bad guy to a pulp and fell madly in love with the man of my dreams. I used to dream that my life was not my life and that I would wake up one day to a world transformed where I was a hero who has magical powers and saves the day (thank you J.K Rowling). Nowadays my dreams are simpler. I dream of one day writing a novel or series of novels that are loved just as much as those written by J.K Rowling (Harry Potter), George R. R. Martin (Game of Thrones) or John Marsden (Tomorrow, When the War Began). I dream about using my own experiences and my own knowledge to create a world in which people can escape the mundane and be transported to another time and place. I dream of creating complex characters that engage a new generation of readers and inspire them to write stories of their own. Dreaming of being an author also appeals to my more romantic side. I’m not entirely sure what it is about the lives’ of writers but they always seem to be rather romantic and inspiring. Well some of them at least.

The only thing standing in the way of me accomplishing my writing dream is my current lack of a story. I’ve written a load of excerpts for uni assignments and when I have nothing better to do but I’m unable to put together a cohesive storyline where I can build characters and their world. I just need that one unique character or plot line or world and then I know I’ll be able to write. Perhaps I should take up meditation. Maybe it’ll help.

Distraction for the sake of distraction.

Distraction is (according to the most reliable of sources, Wikipedia.org) the divided attention of an individual or group from the chosen object of attention onto the source of distraction. Distraction is caused by: the lack of ability to pay attention; lack of interest in the object of attention; or the great intensity, novelty or attractiveness of something other than the object of attention. Distractions come from both external sources, and internal sources. While this explanation for distraction is comprehensive and informative, does it mean that distraction is a good or a bad thing? Can distraction be used to enhance our otherwise mundane lives or does it provide us with the means to avoid living our lives to their fullest potential?

For example, being distracted in the workplace is something that is, more often than not, frowned upon but what if being distracted (at appropriate times of course!) increases our productivity because it gives our brains a much needed break from the often strenuous and frustrating tasks set by our managers? As I mentioned in my previous blog post Why do all my good ideas pop into my head when I’m trying to go to sleep?, being distracted can be beneficial to our creativity and I think that it can be applied to our productivity levels as well because it allows for our over-worked brains to process information and solve problems more effectively while also perhaps considering solutions we hadn’t thought of before. Maybe distraction encourages that ‘outside of the box’ thinking that companies are so often asking for?

On the other side of the same coin, there are definitely downsides to distractions. Being distracted whilst operating heavy machinery is probably something best avoided. Lost of limb or a maimed appendage due to distraction is generally not accepted as grounds for a worker’s compensation claim. Additionally, if you’re in a constant state of distraction there are wonderful moments in life that you’re going to miss out on. Missing a dog freak out while eating a piece of lime (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8JXtGhtnkBo) because you’re too busy being distracted by something on your phone is possibly one of life’s greatest travesties. Inevitably you will miss something, but at least if you’re present in the moment, it’s less likely to happen.

So whatever you think in terms of the pros and cons of distraction, maybe all you need do is just take a moment and get distracted anyway.

The lack of an idea.

It’s been a few days since my last post and so I think that it’s high time that I push one out. My only problem, at the moment, seems to be that I’m having trouble focusing. There are a multitude of stories, experiences and general issues that I could write about but they all seem to be colliding into one another and emitting an explosion of unfocused energy. I’ve thought about writing a post about my exercise habits which turns into my eating habits which turns into the food I ate while travelling which turns into my travelling adventures and it goes on and on. As a result of this monstrous collision, I don’t seem to be able to put together one single, cohesive strand of thought to produce a blog post in response to. As such, this riveting blog post is going to reflect my current inability to think creatively or perhaps just the difficulties inherent in creativity. Then again, it could be about neither. I’m unfocused.

Now despite my current prose being creatively challenged, there’s something in that thinking creatively can be a bitch at times. So often there are amazing ideas that flow through our brains like liquid gold and then other times it’s like our creative brains are a barren desert where, try as we might, clutching to the idea of an idea is about as far as we get in the process. Sure there are ways to try and get around this like distracting yourself with other things (watching something on my laptop, exercise and baking are my top three) to get the creative juices flowing but when that fails, what do we do? I’d really like to know because I’m failing at this blog post right now and I’d like to knock down my current creative block.

Creative blocks are common and I don’t think that there’s any one way to break free of the constraints and get out of our own way. Trying to tease out an idea can be like pulling teeth but when the right idea presents itself, hallelujah! It makes all the struggling worth it in the end and then, out of nowhere, ideas start gaining momentum and before we know it, we’re flooded with great creativity-driven  ideas.

In the end, I suppose that it doesn’t really matter how we overcome our creative blocks so long as we overcome them.

Holy crap! Was that a ghost? Quick! Call the Ghostbusters!

I’m sure that you’ve all heard the stories. A young woman dies a horrible death and forever haunts the spot where she died. People visit the haunted locale and either disappear or turn up bloodied and screaming. The stories are nothing new and least of all scary but what if you really did witness a supernatural event. Would you believe it or would you disregard it thinking that it’s just your over-active imagination playing tricks on you? I suppose that I’ve always had a predisposition that leans more towards believing in the weird, wonderful and mysterious. There’s something about the unknown and the possibility of the fantastical that speaks to me and my imagination. Information about the supernatural is readily available to anyone who owns a television, computer, smart phone or tablet. The entertainment industry has gone above and beyond to capatalise on exposing the supposed unknown and so people have become so desensitized to it that every ghost sighting can be explained away as being a fabrication and definitely not real. Can anyone actually prove the existence of the supernatural? I have no idea how someone would even begin to establish some kind of proof but I know what I’ve seen and I have no doubt that it was real.

The day was like any other. I was in my bathroom getting ready for work when, out of the very corner of my eye, I saw a weird kind of shadow. I turned to have a look but there was nothing there so I ignored it and continued to put my make-up on and do my hair. After a couple of minutes, the shadow returned but the outline was more distinct. It was most definitely a woman and she was staring at me. Now I know what you’re all thinking. You’re thinking “Yeah right!”, “No way!” but I swear that I’m not lying. The woman was wearing a long dress and has longish dark hair (typical right?). She wasn’t doing anything but standing and staring but I knew that she was there. I eventually got up the courage to look at her but as soon as my head turned, she vanished. I was feeling severely creeped out so I got out of there quick smart. I told the story to my Dad who then informed me that before we lived in that house, the family of a policeman lived there and that his wife committed suicide in my room. She hung herself from the ceiling fan. Terrifying right?! And no, I’m not joking.

Anyway, I think that by not being able to explain everything, our world is that little bit more interesting and perhaps even more unpredictable. What do you think? Share your ghost stories.

LOVE: Man’s best friend. My best friend.

Louie as a puppy

Meet Louie. He’s our beloved family dog. He’s an 18-month-old, pure bred boxer and I’m head-over-heels, seeing stars, heart-pounds-every-time-I-see-him in love. He’s an incredibly affectionate and goofy young dog whom my family and I adore. Whenever I think about being away from him for long periods of time, my heart breaks and I constantly need photos and Skype sessions with him to sate my obsessive love for him. Possibly not the healthiest of relationships but I think that this is a feeling that all dog owners and lovers can relate to. They play such an integral role in our families and in our lives that it’s unbearable to think about them not being there – much like it feels to think about losing a human family member. It’s not something that we like to dwell on. Sadly though, as with all things the end must come and I suppose while Louie makes my family and I so inexplicably happy (words cannot possibly express how much we love and adore him), his entrance into our family wasn’t as happy as it could have been.

It has been years since my family and I had been able to have a dog. We lived in a two-level-townhouse and it really didn’t have enough space to be able to comfortably accommodate one. We’ve had a couple of different dogs over the years but we had always adopted them at an slightly older age and because it had been so long since we had had a dog, we decided that 2011 was the year that we would get our first puppy. We found out that family friends of ours were having their first and only litter of schnauzer puppies and there was no question: we were getting one. Not longer after, the puppies were born. We saw them that night and instantly fell in love with all twelve of them. They were so tiny and cute that we were constantly finding excuses to go over and visit them. We helped to bath them, play with them and generally just provide then with as much love and attention as we possibly could. It was a shame that we couldn’t take all twelve home but we found Henry. A completely black puppy save for a white spot on his chest and a white paintbrush tail. He was BEYOND adorable and the ten weeks that we had to wait before taking him home were excruciating.

Henry as a puppy

Finally the day came and he came home to stay. It was hard for him to be separated from his mother and siblings (he spent his first night crying for his family and so for the first week he snuggled up to my neck and face in my bed so he would sleep) but he eventually got used to us and slept in his own bed. By this stage, my parents had bought a bigger house and we had moved in so there was plenty of space for young Henry to get himself into trouble. Oh and boy did he get into trouble! He ate his bones in the house, ran across the street away from us when the front door was left open, hid under the house and countless other things but it didn’t make us love him any less. He was beautiful in every explanation of the word – good natured, friendly, playful, handsome and loved unconditionally. It was in his nature to be mischievous and curious about everything. It’s heartbreaking to say though that his curiosity and excitement to be friends with everyone was also what got him killed.

Henry was 8-months-old when my sister was talking him for a walk around our local area. He saw another dog across the other side of the street and before my sister could do anything about it, he had slipped his collar and ran across the street to meet the other dog. He just didn’t see the car coming in the other direction and the driver, sadly a family friend of ours, didn’t seem him either. There was the screeching of tires, a yelp and Henry was on the ground not moving. My sister was screaming and running towards him only to see him slowly slip away. I don’t think my sister will ever really recover from the experience. I don’t think any of my family will. I won’t lie. It’s been almost two years and I’m still getting upset thinking about it. Our collective family’s heart broke that night and while we love Louie to no end, there’s forever going to be an emptiness in ours hearts where Henry is concerned. The days and weeks following the accident were the hardest for me. I missed him so much and his absence was palpable in our house. I didn’t talk or laugh or smile for what felt like an eternity but eventually, life got back to normal and I learnt to live with my grief. I know that this might sound extreme to some of you but I can’t explain in words how much I loved Henry. I raised him from a puppy. I spoilt him with treats. I took care of him and he loved me unconditionally. There’s nothing in the world like it.

After a couple of months, my family started thinking about getting another dog. It was possibly the easiest family decision that has ever been made in my family. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that we should get another dog. Our house felt too empty and we wanted the joy that only a dog can bring into a household back in our lives. So I went in search of a breeder and found a breeder of boxers in Tamworth. I got in touch with the breeders who told me that their female boxer had just had pups and that they were ready for new homes. She sent me photos and then there was Louie. We said yes on the Friday night and the arrangements were made to fly him up to us the following Tuesday. We couldn’t have been happier. We still miss Henry terribly but when Louie came into our lives, the pain felt a little less crippling and our house felt a little less empty.

If I were a guest on Inside the Actor’s Studio with James Lipton.

I’m fortunate enough to subscribe to Foxtel and as such, am able to watch an enormity of television. It’s like I’m in my own version of Heaven. It’s great but then again, not because so much of the time there’s nothing on despite the 200 channels on offer. You all know what I’m talking about. Sometimes there’s just nothing worth watching. Nevertheless, one of the better television experiences is when an episode of James Lipton’s Inside the Actors Studio is on. Lipton delves into the lives and crafts of actors such as James Gandolfini, Tina Fey and Hugh Jackman to name a few. The interviews are surprisingly candid and honest while revealing a side to acting and being in the spot light that I hadn’t seen before. I never knew just how technical the art of acting could be. So if you haven’t had the pleasure yet, get involved because there hasn’t been an episode yet that hasn’t been worth watching.

Now to get to the point. Last week The Daily Post posted a prompt for a blog post and while I may be a little late off the mark, I’m going to attempt to respond to it. The reason why I’ve mentioned Inside the Actors Studio is because at the end of every interview, Lipton asks his guests a series of questions. The questions are always the same and the answers are always entertaining so I’m going to attempt to answer those questions and see what comes out.

What is your favorite word?

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

What is your least favorite word?

Hate.

What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?

Good writing and a good vocabulary.

What turns you off?

Unintelligence.

What is your favorite curse word?

Motherfucker.

What sound or noise do you love?

Rain on a tin roof.

What sound or noise do you hate?

Really loud motorbike engines.

What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

Director and producer.

What profession would you not like to do?

Geriatric nurse.

If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

Come on in. We have all your favourites.

Looking at my answers, they’re not very exciting or as entertaining as the answers Tina Fey gave (Full Interview: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yFsogrVDIhY) but I suppose it does reveal a little something about me. One thing that I’ve found interesting about answering these questions is how long it took me. The guests on the show answer the questions like rapid fire and it took me a good ten minutes to really think about how I wanted to answer them. I suppose answering questions like that just become second nature when you’re constantly being interviewed. Anyway, try answering the questions for yourself and see what happens.

Why do all my good ideas pop into my head when I’m trying to go to sleep?

I don’t know what it is but it seems like whenever I’m trying hard to fall asleep after a long day, the best ideas start to rattle around in my brain. Try as I might, unless I write them down, I’m unlikely to have a decent nights sleep and so it makes me wonder why these ideas wait until the most inopportune moment (when my eyelids are heavy and I’m on the verge of deep sleep) to dredge their was up from my subconscious? Like right now. I’ve been trying to all asleep for about an hour and it’s just not happening because I had this idea to write a blog post about exactly what I’m bloody well writing about! Jesus!! It’s just inconvenient! Seriously though, someone needs to come and knock me out so my brain will story functioning in hyper drive and I can get some shut eye. Seriously. Now. What? No takers. Sigh. Fine. Well I don’t think I’m going to be nodding off any time soon so I may as well do a little research.

Apparently I’m not the only one who gets their best ideas at night. According to other blog posts I’ve read, there are a multitude of people out there that are their most creative under the cover of darkness, which is also apparently particularly conducive to writing. Go figure. Nevertheless, it looks as though our best ideas aren’t just limited to night time revelations. According to Leo Widrich, our most creative epiphanies can be triggered by a few different factors. Primarily we’re at our most creative when high levels of dopamine are released into our brain so it’s not just our relaxed sleep-time stupor that enables us to get creative. We can be in a warm shower, listening to music or even exercising. Who knew? All of these activities contribute to the increased flow of dopamine to the human computers that are our brains but as well as this, when we’re in a state of zen, we’re more likely to become introverted and make insightful connections within ourselves thus further increasing our creativity. Now to really top the cake, being distracted is also super helpful as it gives our brains a break from our conscious thoughts and allows for our subconscious to work through a problem more creatively. So, if you want to really get those creative juices flowing, increase your dopamine levels, be relaxed while maintaining a moderate level of distraction. Is it just me or do the factors that contribute to our creativity sound more complex and confusing than they should be? I think maybe I’ve ruined it for myself by trying to unmask something as mysterious as the concoction of creativity. I should have just well-enough alone. Maybe now that I know, I can sleep though. Here’s to hoping.

Is Christmas still Christmas?

With the silly season fast approaching, have you ever stopped and asked yourself, is Christmas still really Christmas? Are we, as a society, truly giving the gift of giving by spending copious amounts of our hard earned dollars to buy gifts for family and friends who, while I’m sure they love their presents, don’t really need them? Should we stop spending our money on consumerist and materialistic items or should we be making more of an effort to really give back to our communities at Christmas time?

I’d like to think that at least some of us would pause and consider the possibility of donating their time and money rather than just buying that $150 wallet or $500 iPad. This doesn’t go to say that I’m a saint that has descended from the pine-scented and honey-baked ham heavens to donate my time and money to others during the happiest time of the year because, well, I don’t. I’m guilty of succumbing to and indeed enabling the societal and cultural norms surrounding Christmas whereby I shower my family and friends with lavish gifts. Last year alone I spent close to $500 on presents. Who does that?! It’s crazy! Could you imagine the kinds of things that amount of money could do for people who are struggling? And by struggling people I’m not just talking about the swollen-bellied, fly covered orphans you see on the World Vision ads plastered all over our television screens during the happy season. I’m talking about the local homeless or animal shelters that have become inundated and are unable to cope. Shouldn’t I be more concerned with helping them at Christmas rather than filling the stockings of my siblings with useless trinkets and food? The simple and harsh truth is that so much of society has been programmed not to think of Christmas this way. I have no doubt that if you were to ask a child tomorrow what comes to mind when they think of Christmas, a lot of them will respond with answers like Santa or presents or decorations. Very few will actually know the true meaning of Christmas (I swear I’m not at all religious by the way) and how it’s time to be truly thankful for all that we have and to share what we can with those less fortunate than ourselves.

Maybe my cynicism is just getting the better of me here but you can’t deny the chord of truth that’s struck here. We can all do more to help people but we don’t and I’m no better than anyone else. Maybe it’s time for a change. Maybe I don’t need to spend hundreds of dollars on presents this year. Maybe I’ll make my presents and donate the money I would normally spend.

Maybe…

Travel Pains: They’re like growing pains. But not.

In my short 26 years of residing on this planet of ours, I’ve participated in what is possibly the greatest of all opportunities in life: TRAVEL. I cannot express just how much I am in love with it and how important I think it is for every person to embrace and experience it at some point in their fleeting existence. I’m of the opinion that you’re less of a person if you have no desire to travel and explore the world beyond your front door because you’re missing out on the most exciting parts of well, everything! Not to sound extremist but there might possibly be something fundamentally wrong with you if you don’t want to travel. Seriously. Look it up. Alas I’m getting off point. As I said, I’ve had amazing adventures in different countries all over the world but it seems that no matter where I go, I run into trouble.

I begin my story in the beautiful alpine snow town of Chamonix, France. Just close your eyes and imagine snow-capped mountains, snowboarding down the silky smooth runs, French food, French wine (more importantly) and a warm bed at night for a glorious week over Christmas. Sounds tre magnifique. Sounds amazing. Right? Well try doing all of that wearing a 2-inch thick foam neck brace. It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when my parents offered to shout my two siblings and I a Christmas holiday in the French Alps but it’s a good story nonetheless.

So there I was on my first night in this beautiful town, minding my own business attempting to watch some French TV in the safety of our lovely apartment when out of nowhere, the supposedly secure cabinet (approximately 2 meters long and 0.5 of a meter in depth) looming above my unsuspecting head came loose and crashed down on top of me. The pure shock of it was almost enough to give me a heart attack but instead it sliced open my poor, innocent thumb and gave me what the doctor originally thought was a fractured vertebrae but, in the end, it turned out to be a severely compressed spine. There were doctors visits, x-rays taken, pain killers and a neck brace prescribed and all the while my siblings were off having fun in the snow without me. Jerks. Lucky or unlucky. I wasn’t sure at the time but I can look back now and say lucky. Well that was at least until I moved to Fernie, Canada. Let’s just say that there was -30 degree weather, a wind chill of -40 degrees, a subsequent bout of mild pneumonia, a lot of coughing and a cracked rib involved. Oh and I was working at a child care at the same time so I think you get the picture. At the end of all this I thought surely, it must be over. Surely I can’t be cursed but alas, I was wrong. I’ll just say four words: allergic reaction to bedbugs. Yeah. Think about it.

But wait! There’s more! That same year, I was living in Revelstoke, Canada and the ski hill had just opened for the season. We were all up bright and early to get first tracks and what glorious tracks they were. I was cruising down a steep slope when I thought I’d better stop and wait for my sister (she was just learning to snowboard) and as I turned and dropped to me knees, I failed to notice the jagged rock that was concealed just below the surface of the snow. The pain was ridiculous but nothing compared to having to ride back down the mountain and constantly falling over with a bung knee. Never again I say. I still have nerve damage in my knee.

Now these stories are just some of the highlights. There have been cases of food poisoning, more mishaps and more illnesses but despite all of them, I don’t regret a single one. Besides, they’re great stories to tell around the dinner table. I mean what can I say? I try to look on the bright side of life. I’m not at all dubious about my impending trip to the U.S in June/July 2014. What could possibly go wrong in a national park or in New York and Vegas?

The journal vs. the blog. Can either be trusted?

At the ripe old age of 14, one of my English teachers set a ‘running’ assessment task: A JOURNAL. We were expected to write one entry a week for the duration of the year and he would check it at the end of every week. Now he promised that he would simply check to see if we’ve written the allotted one-page minimum and not actually read what we had written but I’m sure that that was a lie. How could he not be tempted by what I’m sure was riveting reading written by a bunch of angsty teenagers?! Anyway, it seemed that the habit of writing in a journal stuck and I’ve continued to keep a journal well into my adulthood. Being able to record the most incredible and also the most mundane experiences in my life has been something that I thought that nothing else could ever compare to. Then I discovered blogging.

Now, being relatively new to the blogosphere it occurred to me yesterday that writing a blog is the same as writing in a good ol’ journal. A startling revelation, I know. It’s not exactly the same as cracking open a leather-bound journal, getting out my favourite pen and writing down my deepest, darkest secrets but I’m beginning to appreciate the opportunities afforded to me by being able to write a blog. I can get creative with my writing and finally make use of my vocabulary to then write about things that I would normally just keep to myself. Additionally, I’m reaching that wide global community that until now, I have remained woefully closed off to. BLOGGING = LIBERATION. However, I’m sure that none of this is news to all of you regular bloggers. I’m a novice I know.

As much as I love to write in my journal and now my blog, there some of things I write in my journal would NEVER make the likes of a public blog (no-one should be subjected to the emotional train wreck that is my life at times) for the simple fact that an online, public blog is there FOREVER. A journal can be lost, stolen or in some rare cases, spontaneously combust into roaring flames but when you publish something on the Internet, it’s going to follow you around for the rest of your days. Sure you can delete it but I have no doubt that there’s a guy sitting in a dark room full of beeping and twitching computers that, if bribed with food or perhaps in dire circumstances money, he could dig up all of the skeletons in your digital closet that you’ve tried so hard to keep in a deep, dark cave of personal shame. There’s always going to be that one photo, comment or blog post that you curse the day you posted it and so it got me thinking, can either medium truly be trusted? A blog can be hacked and a journal can be read so is there really any hope for any of our most private or indeed our public thoughts?