What a Craptacular Week!

Nothing but a load of trash!

So, was your week as rubbish as mine? My week was not the week from Hell. But it was pretty damn close. So much so that I haven’t been able to write anything here. Since the day when the Malaysian Airline plane was shot down, it seemed to me that there was absolutely nothing worth writing about. Why write anything when all that’s going on around you is one horror after another? People hurting other people. People hurting the planet. People hurting themselves. Rapes. Murders. Wars. Insane Governments. Sun flares. Sink holes. You name it, last week it was getting up in my face.

It got me down because to add to that my day job, my home and my relationship status (or lack-thereof) are all in serious need of an overhaul. But I didn’t want to bitch and moan and dump my misery on you. I don’t want to censor myself, and I want to keep my writing as real as possible. I write this blog for my own pleasure as much as I write it for yours so I made a pact with myself over the weekend to admit to you and myself that yes, last week was utter shite. Sometimes life is bleak. Sometimes you’re powerless to change the ghastly circumstances around you. But just like lightning things can change in a flash. And it can be something really simple that makes that change. For me it was this weekend.

From Drab

From Drab…

 

I awoke on Saturday to another miserable cold, rainy day, and toddled off to see my shrink (see, here’s me not censoring myself – depression and anxiety? Me too!) I had a really great and inspiring talk with her, then toddled further down the road to have brunch with my lovely friend Jini. By 10.30am I was already inspired, I was actually enjoying my cold walk in the drizzling rain, I had money in my wallet for a delicious meal at a nice cafe at the beach with one of my most favourite people in the world. Hello, I was waking up (again) to the fact, that my life is in fact, pretty bloody good.

A few more hours of inspirational creative discussions with Jini, who, dear reader, is an amazing writer – watch this space, I see a thrilling novel on the horizon – and the sun had started to shine as the rainclouds quickly dispersed. How good is mid-winter sunshine?! Seriously, when you feel awful, go stand in it for a few minutes and soak it up. Sunshine is joy in the form of heat and light.

An evening of laughter and bad movies with some other amazing friends – Krystyna and Marc – confirmed the goodness of life. (Snowpiercer is an awesome movie name, don’t you think?!) With more sunshine and coffee and beautiful scenery than you can shake a fist at in Manly today; phone calls with friends and family topped up the weekend, and my joy tank is now refilled. So the simple things – friends, family, sunshine, scenery, and lots of coffee – were all it took to bring me back to joy.

To Fab!

To Fab!

As I went for my evening run tonight, I made the commitment to myself to continue writing this blog as a form of enjoyment for me and for you. I won’t hide the fact that sometimes I feel like my life is crapola. I refuse to wallow in it either. I’ll be focusing on the good bits. Because life is full of them. Sometimes you’ve got to use a magnifying glass, but they’re there. It will give me the greatest pleasure to know that you’ve read my words and smiled, or chuckled, snorted, guffawed, or had one of those really big blasts of air from your nostrils where you freak out that something might have gone flying from it and hit your neighbour in the face. Belly laughs are great, and comments on the post are even better.

Remember, lots of shit makes your garden bloom with vigour. Imagine what a shitty week’s done for your life. Wishing you a SPECTACULAR week!

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A Passion for Prohibition

Don’t make me drink another bottle!

Yeah, so I’ve slightly failed my first two days of ‘No Goon June’- thanks Matt for the inspiration. But that’s ok, because if you’re going to fail at an alcohol-free undertaking, you might as well do so at an underground Prohibition-style bar.

Ronan and Sarah, I blame you both for letting me drag the two of you to Palmer & Co those first two nights. As per any good adult, I refuse to take responsibility for my own actions. Perfection’s for the gods, and look how fucked up they were!!!

But perfection (and potential alcoholism) aside, the atmosphere of such underground swill-houses with the gaslights burning in dark alleyways, the cool jazz and attractive barkeeps has been great fuel for spirited discussions about living your passions. Whatever it takes.

What are your passions? And what are you doing to live them? What is the atmosphere you need to immerse yourself in so you can ooze your passions from the inside out? God forbid I become possessed by the spirit(s) of someone like Hemingway, but I love this atmosphere! It makes me want to run out and write and research and relate stories to my friends. To learn to play the double bass, to trawl through sepia toned archives, to dig up history, overhaul my wardrobe with cloche hats and flapper dresses and redder than red lipstick. To say piss off to polite society and let life rip! Phew!

Seriously though, what are you passions? If you knew that you could not fail, what would you be doing right now? If money was no object, how would you dress? Where would you be? Who would you be with? What would you be doing? I’m going to leave you with a question asked by Alan Watts on the video below: What do you desire?

Right in this moment I desire action, adventure and change. So I’m going to get up out of this seat, and do whatever it takes to dodge some crazy traffic, and buy myself some redder than red lipstick.

Then come back and write my novel.

And plan my trip to Ireland.

And smile!