why not, apricot?

Celebrating One Year of Self-Taught Crochet

2011-08-07T08:30:00.000-07:00

At the end of this month, August 2011, it will be one year since I picked up a hook and successfully began to crochet. And in celebration of this marvelous milestone, I am going to yarn bomb. What is yarn bomb, I hear you ask? Well, before you ask Google search, let me give you a run down. Yarn bombing is graffiti with yarn. But before you go thinking of what monument I'll be covering with my creative yarn creations, I can reveal that it will NOT be something public that I can get fined for, but something closer to home. In fact, it IS my home! That's right, I'm going to yarn bomb my very own house, letter box included. Stay tuned and in the meantime, enjoy these pictures of some already-awesome yarn bombed things...

Christmas in July (In June) 2011

2011-06-27T07:04:00.000-07:00

Myself, my husband and his parents celebrated our very first Christmas in July (In June) yesterday. It was different, but lovely. The weather is cooler, the shops aren't crowded and the time we spend together is about love and good times rather then presents and consumerism... although our gifts were quite awesome and the food was so amazing that we'll be eating fruit and water for the rest of the week to cleanse our bodies. While our two cats rival it out, we had a jolly day of simply laughing and enjoying each other's company and I spend my time viewing the world through my very snazzy new lense...

A polaroid 300! How beautiful and simply adorable and I cannot wait to fill my house space with a million teeny sized polaroid photos of all sorts of things that bring my inspiration. And talking of inspiration, I am full of it. My stories for the competitions are coming along well. I have story ideas for them all and now just have to get the ideas down on the page to start getting a true story happening from there. It's all coming along. Aside from those stories though, I have big plans for other creative aspects of my life. Watch this space to see more about them soon.

Until next time, sleep tight and Merry Christmas in July (In June)!

SM
x

Oh my.

2011-06-23T05:20:00.001-07:00

So I absolutely lost track of everything I had begun in between a million chores, family visits and commitments and a bit of work here and there. The days are just moving too fast for a life that I'm trying to chase.

I have only a few days left of holidays (from my diploma) but there's not rest in the near future for me. I'm behind on three book reviews, about 30 pages of shorthand practice and a few of my portfolio exercises, just for school. Then there is my commitment to National Young Writer Month, which was to write a few short stories, some poems and to write everyday. The latter, especially, and it's what I've been dismissing so easily when the dishes need to be done. However, I can say that I'm quite proud of the ideas that I've been sprouting; these could definitely lead to something good when I finally sit down and get them all out.

So here is my plan. I've written out a list of competitions happening in the next few weeks or months and it's my first, baby goal to write something new for each and every one of them and post in my applications. They're quite inexpensive and have reasonable requests and something that will finally help me get my act together in actually writing new things, rather then just having awesome ideas for new things and it never progressing from there.

In the mean time, I have taken to jewellery making; or at least trying. Check out this groovy pair of doily earrings I made:

Considering I am trying to run an online business, I think it's not too bad when I take time out from writing to whip up a few upcycled accessories. You can check out my shop here: http://www.etsy.com/shop/chebylou

Til next time, which I hope will be tomorrow,

SM
x

I love you.

2011-06-11T07:35:00.000-07:00

To my husband,

You're not my world, but you certainly make it wonderful.

You are not my soul mate but you are my best friend.

You do not complete me, but you do empower me.

It's been one year, since we stood in front of our family and friends, nervously and a little bit hesitantly repeating the vows that made us man and wife. It was never the married part we were worried about; and nothing has changed since then. I am proud to have made the next natural move in our relationship that simply meant the formalising of our togetherness over those past five years (now six).

I love that we always laugh together.

I love that you wear the bearded hat I made you.

I love that you make me apple crumble at 1am just because I asked you to.

I love that we don't have the same beliefs but it changes nothing between us.

I simple love you.

SM
x

Oh, croutons.

2011-06-10T00:39:00.000-07:00

I do remember the first time we met. I was in primary school, and you were served by the religion teacher that my family had become affiliated with. Mrs White and her husband Mr White, had a lovely back garden with many plants and flowers. It was around lunch time, and how odd, I thought, to add small, crunchy portions of bread to a soup that would only make them soggy. I didn't like you at the start, but oh, how I grow to love you now.
I've begun to rekindle this appreciation for you, oh croutons, as I chunk up the bread and sizzle you in my fry pan. I anxiously heat up my soup and scoop you on top; some of you sink in, some of you stay partially crunchy... secretly my favourite.
I look forward to our winter adventures.
SM
x

Day Five; on a roll.

2011-06-04T18:26:00.000-07:00

I'm getting better! It's 11:27am and I'm onto my blog post. Good work, I say! So today, I will be writing a book review on Jerzy Kosinski's, Being There. This is an assignment that is a little behind, so it's a high priority to finish. I also have some writing and re-writing to do for my interview following on from yesterday, and I'd like to have a crack at a poem. A poem that can then be used in a spoken word performance... that of course, I'll practice by myself at home in my pajamas.

Perhaps my new strategy of announcing my daily goals on a public forum will enhance the chances that I actually complete them. What do you think? :)

For now, I'm off to read the last chapter of Being There and to finish off my cup of earl grey tea with Minute to Win It playing in the background.

Cya!

SM
x

Day Four

2011-06-03T21:44:00.000-07:00

Sadly my daily bout of writing yesterday was for assignments, but I'm still happy that it's my words. So today, day four, is an extra special compilation of writing. At least, the first part is! Today I interviewed a young lady who is busy in the arrangements for her first book deal - very exciting! The write up of this interview will be linked to you very shortly...

Today I've really struggled to put a few words down. First I was distracted by the TV, then searches for dream earrings on etsy.com and now it's youtube's fault. Well, not really their fault, but these are the challenges I've faced. I feel awfully lazy today, so it's difficult not to sit in front of a screen of some sort and watch the pretty colours and drift into my own world.

So as I sit here staring at my rainbow coloured finger nails and look at the pile of work that I really need to make a dint in, I still feel like I could just float off into a cloud for the next few hours. However, that would not be productive! It's so hard to get things done on a routine basis when you're so prone to just doing whatever, whenever. It's a habit that I both love and hate. Actually, I have to admit, I'm leaning more towards hate. I barely get anything done, so it can't be a good thing! It now becomes a goal of mine, to at least get the things I need to done, no matter my strategy. (Organisational strategies just don't really work for me!) I'll make 50 cups of tea, crank the radio, fiddle about with everything on my desk or decide to crochet yet another hat, but I'm determined to make it happen. How else will I be successful? Further to that, I have to work for the next two days. It's not overly strenuous work, but it is work that requires my attention and presence and that I need to go if I like to get paid to support my fake-plug earring habit. Which I do.

So for now, I must be off to complete the tasks a-fore-mentioned. Until next time, smile your heart out for no better reason then you jus' can!

SM
x

Shattered Glass

2011-06-02T00:01:00.000-07:00

Day #2 of NYWM and I'm happy to say that I haven't left my bout of daily writing to 11pm. It's much earlier then that and I have a night of writing and brainstorming ahead of me. This is very exciting!

While catching up on some of the Jschool work I've missed from being sick, I watched a film called Shattered Glass. It captivates the true story of a prominent, young journalist writing for The New Republic for three years in the '90's. The only problem is, 27 of his 41 published stories were either partially or completely made up. Incredible! I think it's safe to say, I'm am now terrified to write as freely as I once did... However that won't stop me writing at all, in fact, it simply enforces the importance of your professional ethics and working as morally as you can. As with any job, a writer is still a profession.

So while this is only a short blog, again, I am proud that I've made the time to write down a few notes. Now that my mind and fingers are all warmed up, I'm ready for book reviews, editing, poetry and short story writing. Productivity, here I come!

SM
x

Oh Dear

2011-06-01T05:47:00.000-07:00

So here we are, a day in an already I'm scrambling to write up something, anything for my daily goal. It's 10:47pm and I've only just now, made time for a blog post. Terrible form, Siobhan! However in my defence, I did sleep alot today for waking up sick on the first day of winter. A lovely cold-sorey-weak kind of sick that's just ever so pleasant to deal with. Though this is no month for excuses, it's a month of productivity! For now I'll be off with a dissatisfied feeling of only writing such a short amount of words for my first day of National Young Writers Month but with greater hopes for the days (and productivity) to come!

SM
x

National Young Writers Month

2011-05-31T05:35:00.001-07:00

So the count down is on. There's only 1 hour and 25 minutes until National Young Writers Month (NYWM) begins, and it's a challenge that I'm thoroughly looking forward to.

As a hopeful writer, I usually find myself with a million ideas that just hang about. Occasionally, I'll write up a blog post or a short story and I get a feeling of satisfaction for actually doing something, but it really doesn't go much further then that.

This is probably the same story for alot of wannabe writers out there - it's alot of work to really get the motivation pumping. So this is where NYWM comes into play. I guess as a collective, if we're all writing together, perhaps we'll fuel each other's inspiration wheels!

I'm setting my goals:
1).Daily blogging/writing.
2). Enter a poetry competition.
3). Finish my short story, "The Isaac".
4). Activism - take written action for causes that need written support; letters, petitions, etc

Now to help me remember these are my goals, I've found this revolutionary thing called a pinboard, and have each goal scribbled on a sticky note and pinned right up, in bright colours, so I can see, each and every day when I enter my home office. (I totally told you I have a home office setup now, didn't I?!)

Until tomorrow, au revoir!

SM

Flippin' a pancake, baking some bread.

2011-02-06T04:13:00.000-08:00

So, I'm pretty much unstoppable, what with my new found ability to flip a pancake in the pan and my recent feat of baking fresh, home made bread. I feel quite accomplished for this year so far having taken a mighty bite out of my resolution list for 2011, and we're only in month #2.

It's approximately 3 weeks until I begin my new journey in a diploma of journalism at a leading independent institution, Jschool located in the heart of Brisbane City. I am both excited and terrified for the leap into a new field, and although I have dabbled in journalism and writing before, I am certain I have a great deal of learning to go just to get the basics.

Activate motivation... 3, 2, 1...

To be honest, I'm struggling to find the discipline to set myself in serious journalism cadet mode, scouring newspapers to the 't'and perfecting my teeline shorthand skills. Though, I guess this year is about learning and discovering my path to journalism success and yes, it will be hard work that I may have to force myself to do but I've come to the conclusion that by being offered a position, this is the next step to take in my often crazy world.

A year of motivation!

2011-01-07T23:16:00.001-08:00

Happy New Year! Lets hope that this year will bring as many joys and challenges that every other year has bought, and speaking of this year, I can happily announce that I have successfully crossed off one of my 2011 resolutions

...learning to flip a pancake.

It was a wonderful thing to have learnt! I feel quite excited. Added to that, my husband and I have committed to shaving our heads to raise money for Shave for a Cure. I bought a skipping rope, a DVD player and we just got back from a good 40 minute workout.

I have friends having babies, getting married, doing study and enjoying their lives to the max despite circumstances out of their control.

There will be a new cat, a savings account, a new learning opportunity and hopefully a year of good health in my year. There will be a birthday night picnic, significant improvements in the relationship between me and Elisa (my sewing machine), and a successful portable vegie garden out the back.

With my keep cup and awesome thermo lunch bag by my side, I'm sure for a good year.

Check out my new weapon, weapon of choice.

2010-10-30T23:21:00.000-07:00

Hello!

It's been a wonderful couple of months for me in regards to developing my creative skills, particularly in crochet and sewing. I am no longer filled with self doubt but a little less scepticism that I may actually be capable of making such pretty things that people would like to buy them. I feel excited.

Weapon of choice.

I was lucky enough to marry into a family of great creative minds. My father-in-laws side is quite the collection of seamstresses and crafters; not to mention my amazing mother in law; and during the last visit they spent with us, I was given a mighty fine stack of vintage magazines such as women's weekly and new idea dating back from the 1950's. Aside from this and adding to the massive collection of buttons I now have, I inherited over 1000 spools of embroidery thread and cross stitch patterns and pieces that our late Aunty Helen used to have. They know me well... I am in heaven!

Vintage magazines dating back from 1958

I stopped off at the second hand store near my work the other day and was delighted to find a bunch of beautiful ruffle laces' perfect for a few upcoming projects that I have been piecing together in my mind over the last few weeks. However I desperately want to make it clear that the reason I thrift shop is not because of money. Infact, it may not always be cheaper to buy second hand. I browse, shop, buy, plan and consider thrifting first hand due to ethical reasons of waste. It's simply a bonus that you can find such amazing one off pieces of inspiration and wonder.

Never under-estimate the eye of the thrift shopper...

It is my goal to make beautiful clothes and accessories from scratch, promoting hand made goods and upcycling, recycling, repurposing, reusing and any other name you can think of, wherever possible. It's really not as scary as some people think it might be.

An upcycled product in the making.

Where's your inner peace, dude?

2010-10-25T03:13:00.000-07:00

I work hard every day to know that if something ever happened to me, I wouldn’t regret not telling someone I loved them or not doing something that I’d wanted to do. And it got me thinking. Generally, I am so happy with my life and the progress that I’m making through it and time and space that I wondered why this is so for me when I am aware of so many people that aren’t in the same position, or even close to being happy with their lives. So here are the reasons I’ve come up with for me, and maybe you can have a crack at seeing what might work for you:

1. No matter how difficult it is, tell people you love them when you have the chance to. You hear many stories of people who missed the chance for reconciliation with people in their lives (or not in their lives for that matter) and you don’t want to be one of those people wishing you’d said something. Tell them through being thoughtful; remember special days, what’s important to them why they’re special in your life. It’s more then words, it’s presence. It’s care. It’s saying you love them with your entire heart and soul. So, tell people. Tell everyone. Over-tell them. Make them sick of hearing how much you love them, but make sure you tell them because they’ll know.

2. Don’t rely on others to make you happy. It’s a difficult point at first, however after taking an in-depth journey into Miguel Ruiz’s “The Mastery of Love” you discover an inner peace that when you know the love you give for yourself and others comes from within your being and your happiness, you give people the opportunity to give love back or share their love in the same way, but it doesn’t affect you in a way that if they do not respond. You do not loose the love you gave, because it’s inside you. It does not compromise the happiness you have, because it comes from inside you. Without the stress and reliance on others you have control of your life and where you choose to lead it. I like to describe it like I am happy, and it’s the kind of heart-warming happiness that I wake up to a new day and I’m just happy that it’s there and I’m there too. I give out my love to the day as I go along… and when someone responds in a negative way, it doesn’t suppress the love that I have given out; it’s still there for people to accept as they will. However when someone responds back with love they share with me, it warms my heart even more. It enlightens my entire body and allows me more love to share. It’s a good read.

3. Give with your soul. There isn’t much more explanation to this. When someone needs help, offer your help. Or better still, offer your help before someone is in such a need as to ask. Give without expectation, because giving to people is the best thing that you can do with your happiness and love.

4. Life isn’t about things. But I must admit I have a few things of my own. And they are very special to me, and I appreciate them so much because they are my own. I look after my things, I share my things when others need things, and I am happy to take responsibility for my things. I think my love for the things I have really helps, and knowing that they are just ‘things’ ensures me there is more then things to life, even though I have a few things of my own. Love your things.

Life is about people and it’s the peoples’ needs that make life special. Tell those people you love them. It’s also that not just people have life, but everything that you can see, touch, feel – has a story and a journey themselves. Make yourself happy on the inside and share that happiness with the world.

Give with your soul.
Love your things.
Live purely.

Things about me.

2010-10-15T05:56:00.001-07:00

1. I didn't get to kiss my husband on our wedding day, because I was sick.

2. I believe that bad grammar and over use of symbols, even on facebook, is absolutely rude. Intentional bad use is a different story, however not anyone can just do this and I can tell the difference.

3. I cannot stand how everyone thinks they are all random.

4. I don't expect people to try and debate my beliefs when I do get up the courage to share them.

5. I like the radio ads for McDonalds and a little ashamed to admit that I like Katy Perry.

6. In 2004 I was awarded the Perry Irwin Leadership Memorial award and it means the world to me.

7. I have a new found love in the art of crochet.

8. My life goal, would be to live without money.

9. I have a birth mark on my right leg.

10. I have had my nose pierced three times in the same place.

11. I heaps miss my cat.

12. I am very impulsive.

13. I was most certainly born in the wrong year.

14. I have around 20 penpals; both hand written snail mail and email.

15. I am a little bit obsessed about how mess should be organised.

16. The best ever Christmas movie, is Scrooge.

17. Benarkin SS was the best school.

18. Numbers I like are 1 and 21.

19. I hate pet stores.

20. I love bows, ruffles and all the little wonders you can find in thrift stores.

Making changes, going green(er).

2010-10-07T20:14:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been having more and more of a desire to do something greater then I already am; to make an even more (or less) impact to the environment in my life. It's a difficult and overly complicated thing, though, and I feel that not enough people understand the choices that me and my husband make.

So, to start I have taken the pledge to buy hand made. It feels good, and for a while I was quite afraid that I wouldn't be able to make it; after all, I did purchase three pairs of summer shorts from Big W just this week. However, if I am in the mindset of doubt, then how will I ever know if I can make it? I can make myself make it.

Perhaps there isn't enough care in the world for environmental impact. Perhaps the idea of modern lifestyles and things that are so easily accessible through packets and chain shops is more important to families nowa-days, but I'm not convinced and I'm not going to stop. Here's the next step in my life:

I, Siobhan-Marie, hereby pledge to the following commencing Friday 8th October, 2010:

1). I will not conform to social expectations of looks, consumption, values or beliefs.

2). I will not choose fashion over morals.

3). Everyday I will endeavour to reduce the output of waste from my home and anything I am involved in.

4). I will avoid unnecessary consumption including for wants. There is a reason they are not listed under necessity.

5). I will never stop caring.

For now, I am off to eat some roast pumpkin soup and craft away with recycled craft materials while tuning into a bit of Kavisha Mazzella. This afternoon should be lovely.

Peace,
SM

Love monkey and Rumi.

2010-09-22T21:57:00.000-07:00

While waiting for an appointment in lovely Southbank the other day, mum and I decided to explore a little part of the lovely area, where we soon found an amazing book shop and cafe. Reading tales of love monkey and rumi, mum and I enjoyed a cup of tea and the laid back environment.

Our day was filled with little snippets in time, particularly the awkward moment when a young man goes to enter the mens toilet that you are occupying because the ladies is taken while your mum is guarding the door because the lock doesn't work... needless to say we couldn't go back to use those toilets for the rest of that day.

Sitting in the book shop cafe with rain clouds looming in the afternoon sky, I listened to Lisa Loeb and The Avett brothers while indulging in a lemon meringue and soy milk chai latte and I patiently waited for my mum to finish her acupuncture session (to which I later discovered she fell asleep and left me waiting for and hour longer then I had expected). Thinking to myself that I always need to remember to bring a notepad with me so I don't need to scribble down my life's most beautiful moments on a pad of sticky notes I found in the bottom of my bag.

All in a days work, and a beautiful day at that.

People think I collect tea pots.

2010-09-13T16:38:00.000-07:00

That's right. I have a lovely little collection developing of unique and wacky tea pots that people have given me, so I guess now, I'm collecting tea pots.

Life lately has been quiet and busy at the same time. There have been days filled with oh-so-wonderful cleaning chores with sprinkles of crafty goodness in between. I have opened my online shop:

http://www.etsy.com/shop/SiobhanMarie

and I'd love some views from all you lovely people out there. Definitely keep an eye out in the coming weeks for new items including upcycled beauties, upcoming summer fashions and festive pieces of joy. I hope to see you there!

We also have some new additions to our family... Please meet Geralt, our axolotl:

And our two gold fish Vesemir and Eskel:

They are lovely. This means our family is at a total of six including our lovely cat, Chubs...

And my husband and myself:

I love my family.

Learning to Upcycle.

2010-09-13T05:55:00.000-07:00

I have had a recent lesson from my father in law about how to not constantly break the needles on my sewing machine, and thus, having the ability to successfully sew little pieces of love. The time has come to move on from crocheting the edges of all winter clothing to upcycling lovely summer fashions with scrap pieces of material, beads and buttons. I cannot wait!

I love words.

2010-08-30T00:55:00.000-07:00

Haiku poem.

Warm embrace shines now
Through crisp and fresh howling winds
Winter sun delight.

Sonnet.

Arrival of the minds' mystery stage,
the bewilderment of the trip allure
a new adventure begins, turn the page,
embrace the word illusions, more and more

Knowledge, learning, reality escape:
enriching the soul, embody the mind
endless derivatives sought, seeking shape,
searching souls thirst for pleasure, pure divine

Emotional ties and paper cuts braved,
indulge in the rapture, bask in the grit:
worlds of wonderment await to be paved
forget the risks and take the plunge right in

Explore words alike, many worlds apart,
draw it up high, breath in the dust, and start.

The Isaac.

The land was red, the air was bountiful, the sea was surrounding. Australia was the new England. A place for prosperity and future that Netties' family had followed across the seas. It was their new life, and oh the house. The house was precious. Beyond precious, it was a gift. It was a house of many rooms, an embracing wrap around verandah shaded from the heat and had a delicious feeling of wondering enchantment running through the halls. It was bliss. Accompanying the delicious slice of heaven was an adorning eucalyptus, standing tall and strong on the far reaches of the property edges. A sight of marvel and beauty for the Emmett family. On their first day under the southern cross, the Emmetts' has been told of the sacred land on which their beautiful house was built. Natives spoke of particular importance of the century old eucalyptus tree that stood tall and strong at the far back of their property. “Tree connect spirit to mother earth”, elders would say, and although the family held the highest respect for the Indigenous elders, they thought nothing of this tale. It was just a tree.

Nettie was a young girl to many, but in her heart she knew she was years beyond the numerical age that seemed to defined her. Coming into the age of 14 in the sweltering summers of the Australia. Well, technically, she was 14, but in her heart she going on 25. She was ready for life. She enjoyed reading her poems and watching the grass grow. She was a dreamer and very proud of it. The need for bigger houses, bigger cars, bigger lifestyles baffled her. She wanted to be immersed in the purity of nature.

While her parents and servants were unpacking she decided it was a chance for her to see what nature the outback of her new Australian home had to offer her. She set off down through the mystical hall ways of their new house clutching the diary she always had by her side. It was time for some exploration. “Why is this tree so important?”, she thought, “why this tree, of all the trees in the world”. As she drew closer, she could sense the raw beauty the tree omitted. The house was a beautiful place to live but this tree, it was miraculous. It stood 1000 feet tall and swayed proudly high up in the blue sky. When she looked up, she was mesmerised by the leaves dancing to the tune of the summer breeze. She felt in her heart and she knew, it was the Isaac.

For an entire week Nettie spent her time pondering the changes this tree would have seen. The floods, the droughts, the storms, she wondered. Geography was one of her favourite subjects and she yearned for the beginning of the Australian school year to soak up more native knowledge.

She had begun to bond with the land, whether it be because of the purity of soul she so willingly shared with the world or the time she simply took to try and understand; she felt a connection stronger then any other she'd felt before. The more time that Nettie would spend daydreaming about the spirit’s stories of the past and writing poems in her diary under the shade of Isaac, the more she felt connected to the land. Nettie was in absolute awe of mother earth's truly magical creation. Nettie understood that it was the lifeblood of the area, but it seemed like she was the only one who truly appreciated it's presence beyond shade and comfort. She knew there was more to it.

One day, as usual, Nettie was writing in her diary while basking under the morning sun through the leaves of Isaac when all of a sudden, she felt a tremor and the ground began to move underneath her feet . Amongst her world of dreams and imagination, she couldn't tell if it was real, but either way Isaac left her breathless. It was as if the tree was calling her, and she obeyed. Isaac was so beautiful up close and Nettie felt a wave of desire come over her, a devine beauty that she couldn't resist. He was calling to her, not through words, but she knew he was calling her. In the very distances she started to hear a sound, but it was muffled. She focussed harder and harder until finally... “Nettie!” Her mother's call woke her dream. Nettie was indulging in another of her fantasies before she had realised that the rains were coming in. She jumped up from her picnic-like arrangement she had prepared under Isaac, and quickly began to pack up her things before the spitting got too hard, but the rains came in fast. She wrapped her books up in the blanket with her diary safely on top, said her goodbyes to Isaac and slowly wandered back to the house, enjoying the spits of rain landing on her tongue. Nettie wondered what her family had been up to over the day, as she had been outside for most of the daylight, which was the same as every other day. Isaac has become her special place. No one else saw Isaac the way Nettie did. As you'd expect, Isaac was the tree. “The tree?!” she imagined they'd scoff while choking down scones and tea. No one would be able to understand but that wouldn't stop her from defending what she thought to be true. Her parents were modest people working hard to achieve a good future for Nettie. She was their only child and they had high expectations for a young girl of such distinction. She had the world of success right at her doorstep, so to speak. To them it was a shame that at the foot of Nettie's door was a world of disenchantment to their ways.

Nettie saw her future being days filled with flower picking and painting on the hills. Child's play, they called it, and had pure intentions of weaning her out of her petty state of mind. She begged to differ. No matter what it took, she would always strive for her interpretation of a blissfully enjoyable life; perfect for it's imperfections. Nettie was getting closer to the house when she could smell their supper was almost ready. Pot roast tonight, her favourite. Isaac had left her mind for the time being.

The clouds rolled darker and darker as the evening went on, the storm had worsened. Thunder shook the air and the bolts of lightening lit up the sky. It was an incredible display of power. The rains continued into the early hours of the morning with the Emmetts' slept quiet in their beds. The summer night was hot, despite the storm at present. Nettie laid with the covers off listening to the music of the storm, dozing in and out of slumber. A mighty roar of thunder cracked over the house that startled Nettie wide awake. She picked up her diary and creeped out of her room to see her parents sleeping soundly, they had not been disturbed by the storm at all. Nettie looked outside, Issac was bright in the early morning sky. He was lonely, she had to go to him. The rain had begun to ease up and smallest water droplets fell on her bare skin as she walked closer and closer to Isaac. Her heart began beating harder and harder. Her arms felt weak and her head began to spin, but Isaac needed her. She wouldn't leave him. The sound of indistinguishable chatter rung through her ears as she approached her special place, Isaac was calling her. She crouched underneath his branches, wrapped her nightie over knees and squeezed the rain out of her hair. After then, she didn't remember much. A heart beat, there was no sound. A breath inhaled, it would be her last. In the blink of an eye Isaac has come crashed down upon her, struck silently by lightening. Nettie was thrusted into the soft, wet soil. She was crushed.

The sunshine of the breaking dawn rose over the horizon and shone over Nettie's still body and the broken tree. The rains had stopped. The crisp steps of Nettie's father echoed through the ground as he desperately ran towards her. Her face was pale, her hair was matted and her nightie torn. He had come too late. He stroked the dew from her brow and kissed her for a final time. Over his shoulder he could see her diary. She always had it, he thought. “You could have been joined at the hip” he recalled saying to her.

The Emmett family were devastated. How could this happen to their child? They didn't understand and they wouldn't accept it. Nettie's passing left a hole of confusion in the hearts of her parents. They couldn't understand her infatuation with the tree, Isaac had not been real enough to them, but he was to her. She was taken by the great spirit of the land; indulged in the life of love and begun her pathway to the everlasting devine place of her soul. In honour of their child, they left the burnt tree stump standing strong in the backyard and beside it, they buried the diary that she wore on her hip. Perhaps it would grow her thoughts and dreams? A thought far from possibility, but it didn't matter. Nettie would have wanted that.

The land would never be the same again, and neither would Nettie's family. Lost in the world, they had recklessly been torn apart. Unfathomable damage had been caused to the land, to the spirit and yet, Nettie felt that it was only her that could see and feel the change. The change in the winds and the irregular heart beat of the land; an injustice had been done.

Native Elders spoke of this as punishment from the higher spirit. “Bad things happen for bad actions”, they said. These words lingered in the minds of Nettie's parents. They would never know what their bad action had been, or if it was even theirs' to start with, but nature unappreciated was never thought of that way by them again.

Within weeks, the Emmetts had moved back to England. They had chosen comfort and old ways back in their land rather then a lifetime of prosperity in a new land of hurt and broken spirits.

The months and years passed on as the generations grew and passed through with irrespective knowledge of the Isaac tree that once stood tall and strong. Slowly, the land withered away, loosing culture, meaning and connection to the once great spirit of the mother earth. However the broken tree stump in the land of red stood strong for many years to come. Through floods, droughts and storms, it was strong.

It was Nettie's place.

It's life.

2010-08-23T05:43:00.000-07:00

Hello all!

Although I have not had a great deal of new posts lately, I have been working my creative mind like crazy. In the last few weeks I have learnt to knit a button hole, a baby booty and a hat, and have just opened my very own online shop. Please do visit:

It's been an exciting few days full of wonderful job prospects (of which I am eagerly awaiting replies hopefully asking to interview me and not for me to leave them alone), lovely baked goods including a great amount of cookies, both choc chip and smarty-filled, made my first Sheppard' pie and the excitement of this time of year when spring is starting to peek through the winter crisp and each day is inspiring for the simple fact that we are blessed enough to have such a wonderful country to be in.

Unfortunately it's just a quick stop in tonight, I am pumped with excitement of having a lovely online shop, and thus, I must go and make some pretties to put in it. Promise to stop by more often!

Sending love.

SM.

Free the refugees.

2010-08-07T22:37:00.000-07:00

Today I woke up to a phone call from my mum, after I had just reset my alarm. She was asking whether I'd fancy a trip to South Bank to enjoy some tea and sunshine. Ever the go getter for sunshiney-tea-enjoyment, I accepted.

So we caught the bus and all of a sudden, found ourselves joined to a 'free the refugees' protest while we waited for the arrival of Mr. Tony Abbott to his launch. To be honest, I had no idea that this was happening today, and it was sheer coincidence that we ended up there. It all started with a blue elephant... the Australian Youth Climate Coalition were there, and naturally, we posed for photos with the big blue animal. From there, we hugged some trees, whistled at passing cyclists dressed in red speedos and big ears attached, then questioned by four policemen about our presence. That was nice. So, naturally we got involved. We joined the refugee rights team by Socialist Alternative on the other side and chanted away, making sure to raise our voices higher for the people with displaying disgusted looks.

A great day of mother-daughter adventures, I must say, and I want to finish today's blog with the following thought.

This is the beautiful planet, the home that we have. Why can we not protect and share the world we have? Why are people so defensive in sharing their beauties with just as beautiful people or even further then that, why can we not all be content only when every living being has the same basic rights as another?

Fraggle Friday.

2010-08-05T23:06:00.000-07:00

So a recently play on words has lead to believe that 'why not, apricot' is a better title for my little blog then dear old 'oddly red'. I like it, I think I'll keep it.

A few of the other words that I have deemed cute beyond cuteness include: 'oopsies', 'finks', 'doody', 'wizzle' and 'squee'. This little exercise has helped me to rekindle a bit of love that I knew I had with words... and now it's back.

I've not had a terribly great day - having slept in many hours past the time I needed to get up and prepare myself for a wonderful opportunity to get into my writing career.

I trekked out to the local mall (by bus) wearing my summer sandals, which to my dismay have decided that since I have not worn them for the last 3 months that they would give me blisters. It wasn't nice.

While I was waiting it up at the bus stop a thought occurred to me that I'd had more then once...how much reckless drivers annoy me so much, that I often think about what it'd be like to jump out in front of their cars while their speeding or on their phones, just to scare the utter crap out of them. Is that an insane thought? Perhaps.

As I stumbled to the post office and sent off the second assignment for this study period, I actually felt good about where I was and what my thoughts on the future were. I hope I can keep it up.

So, to help me keep it up, I have decided to write my biography. It's something I imagine someone reading on Wikipedia one day, or maybe it will eventuate into a book. What I remember, the things I like and don't like and all the things in between. I guess sometimes you need convincing that you are a good person and this just might be the way for me to do that. I think it will help keep me grounded, perhaps even keep me on the borderline of sane.

A good feeling.

2010-08-05T00:24:00.000-07:00

So, it's been quite a while since my last post and I am sincerely hoping to restructure my daily routine to include a section of writing time no matter how small. I've just finished watching 'Julie and Julia', have eaten an entire ceramic soup mug full of chocolate covered sultanas and finally gaining a little bit of motivation to get stuck into some groovy-writing-tunes.

I am eagerly awaiting the return of my husband from work to help set up and activate the shiny new printer that we had delivered early this morning (as I ran out to greet the delivery man in my bright orange and pink spotted pyjamas).

I have just finished an assignment and feeling good about the world, despite this wonderfully pounding headache that has decided to bless me with it's presence. So I shall bid good evening and look forward to the adventures tomorrow morning brings.

x

A new beginning...

2010-06-18T03:32:00.000-07:00

So, I wanted to share with you all my newest adventure, the adventure of marriage. Last Saturday, 12th June, my partner and I celebrated not only our 5 year anniversary, but the certified union of our relationship. Hooray, I am married! It's a very exciting prospect, and I look forward to the adventures that I am going to have with my husband, who also happens to be my best friend in the wide world.

Big meany.

2010-06-01T16:37:00.000-07:00

I have a sneaking suspicion that perhaps, that I might actually be an intolerant, mean, selfish person, instead of the caring and peace-seeking soul that I've claimed to be in the past 21 years. Yes, it's unusual but growing truer by the minute, but it seems that I am a big meany.

Life so far, has been a bundle of crazy adventures. Some good, some bad, some easy, some difficult, but I've managed to get through them all with a funny story to tell and a little more experience to add to my worldly wisdom collection, however of late I am finding myself in quite a pickle, and a rude one at that.

I find myself judging people by their ignorant actions far beyond my usual attempt to understand what's going on in their lives to make them act in the ways that they have. There are comments circling through my brain of suggestions and favours that I am being asked that I wouldn't dare ask of others and my patience level seems to be lessening each day. I have no sympathy for people having a bad day and decide they're more important in the shopping line then me, and I certainly do not care to humour people for their petty jokes and tasteless remarks.

It's hard for me to say where this is exactly going to, seeing as each day something more comes up and I gradually shift further away from the tolerant existence that I once hoped we'd have, but it doesn't seem pleasant. However, I do believe that I can at least find a few reasons for my diminished care factor. Let's explore a little further...

I believe we live in a western society that is by majority, prides itself of the Eurocentric values consisting of superiority of the masses and little care for equal rights of people that may not hold the same immediate beliefs as them. There is no consideration for social differences and as it appears, no care for them either. I find no pride in that title, nor the fact that we as a nation continue to fuel the typical stereotypes of caring more about sporting achievements of which wages are unfairly distributed based on gender, then people suffering from basic human rights infringements in our own backyard, let alone in other countries that call out for international aid and care.

Something else particularly niggling at me in recently weeks is the inequities of the education system. Is it fair that some children are compensated for unacceptable treatment in care and poor literacy and numeracy skills with yearly theme park tickets and first dibs on entertainment in the local area, while others are not? Is it fair that the children that are not compensated in this manner will still have and continue to have challenges in school and learning environments that will not be improved but rather replaced with easier options? Not good enough.

Irresponsible and senseless consumerism, waste and litter surrounds me in this civilisation inhabited by western cultures of greed and power. This world, is seeming less and less deserving of the innocent souls that suffer at the feet of inequities and personally, I no longer feel the need to fight against it. I'm feeling more and more that this isn't a world I can pour my caring heart into,

I am a big meany. I am becoming intolerant of people who don't know any different. I feeling very mean with my horrible thoughts about why people don't think like me and why people can't just get along and see something from another's perspective, and lastly I must be selfish considering the fact that I've given up hope for the world that we live in. I guess I'll just take me and my big meany self and curl up in the corner for a while in the hope that I'll regain some sense of citizenship that I'll be proud to put my name to.

State of Origin bore...

2010-05-26T01:54:00.001-07:00

I know I'm not the only one, however I feel a strong vibe in the air that I am outstandingly outnumbered in the amount of people who actually care about the state of origin rivalry between Queensland and New South Wales. I simply do not care.

I went out with my mum today and as we sat for a cuppa and people watched (as we often do) I noticed many people casting their social preference votes for who they backed in the game. It breaks my heart to see so many people proudly display their support for a ball game, and yet not half as many publically show their support for, say, Human Rights Day. I strongly feel that there are many more worthy topics that deserve not only the social support, but the media coverage and funds to go with it.

So tonight, I spend my time nibbling away at a bar of fair trade chocolate and rekindling my love for words of power while I listen to some calming tunes. Newton Faulkner or The Avett Brothers, perhaps.

Bleh, blah.

2009-05-22T18:04:00.000-07:00

Good morning souls of the world,

I am here, blogging again for a small amount of time, trying to type out my frustration with the almighty writers block. I haven't been able to write anything decent or even sprout out ideas for the past three weeks or more and last night I had a good idea. It was a good idea, amongst the warmth of my blankets and snuggles, and I didn't write it down. Trust that to be the time that I don't keep a pad and paper near my bed. Now, in the morning, I come to my laptop, ready to write and I can't for the life of me remember what the heck I was on about when I came up with that idea last night. Argh! Why not? I usually have a good memory for things like that. Talk about frustrated! I have a million other ideas just sitting on my usb saved in titles and can't seem to squeeze anything out of that for the moment either. This is surely driving me mad! Perhaps a cup of organic black tea and some time to meditate in the morning sun will bring back any creativeness or sparks in my mind, so I'm off to see and either way, you'll see me back here. I'll either have another rambling piece of turd to express to you, or, all hopes for something decent.

Be the best you can be.

SM

Cleaners at risk

2009-05-06T01:18:00.001-07:00

Cleaners at Myer Centre were recently verbally abused by a member of centre management staff to the point where they felt intimidated. One of those cleaners concerned feels she can no longer work there as a result and has found alternative employment.

When questioned as to what they were doing to ensure a safe workplace, Colonial First State Property Management (CFSPM) the employer of the satff member in question, contended that they'd performe a thorough investigation which had turned out to be 'inconclusive', and therefore felt they could close the matter.

The LHMU, the union representing property services workers - cleaners and security guards - at the Myer centre, subsequently ascertained that CFSPM did not even speak to a single cleaner in the course of their "thorough investigation'.

It was only on the insistence of the union that the investigation was reopened, and cleaners were given a chance to have their say. Even though the cleaners maintain that the verbal abuse took place, and that this incident was not the only occurrence, CFSPM still contend that the evidence is 'inconclusive', and that the matter should be closed.

Would you settle for this in your workplace?

What would have happened in the boot were on the other foot, and a cleaner had abused a member of centre management?

Support the right of property services workers to have a safe workplace, free from intimidation! Send an email supporting cleaners' rights at work to Coloinal First State Property Management at: jsigmun@colonialfirststate.com.au and Cc the cleaners at: cleanstartqld@lhmu.org.au

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I've certainly sent in my response and have pasted that below too - because I fully believe in equity in the workplace and believe this is unacceptable. Support the cause for fair work environments!

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To whom it may concern,

My name is Siobhan and I was recently handed a flyer in Queens ST, Brisbane earlier today stating the words 'Cleaner's at Risk' by a group of people banging bins and making noise.

After a closer inspection I further read that "cleaners at the Myer centre were recently abused by a member of centre management staff to the point where they felt intimidated". It was obvious that they were outraged at this mistreatment and were seeking the assistance of the general public to seek fairer treatment for the cleaners of Myers.

I absolutely agree with their statement and quest for equality - especially in an industry created by the arrogance of others that someone else must pick up after them. The cleaners are valuable and integral in contributing towards the beauty of Queen ST, not to mention are people themselves who deserve respect and fair treatment.

I full support them.

Kind regards,

Siobhan

Modern Day Gladiator

2009-05-03T03:44:00.001-07:00

"Baby boy takes world by storm!"

"Wonder child born in miraculous way!"

"New breed of species through to be extinct, re-discovered!"

Good Evening Chairperson, ladies and gents.

It was a dark gloomy night. Thunder struck and the electricity ridden bolts of lightening began to light up the house to reveal the unknown mysteries that lay beneath. The shear screams that came from inside the house echoed and echoed and echoed down the long dark, eerie corridor. This night was full of pain, heaving and pushing until she was exhausted beyond exhaustion. However instead of her child being born, his tiny fingers clenched to make a fist as he punched is way out of his mother's womb, ready for life. And on this night, a modern gladiator was born. This was also known as the invention of caesarian birth. Shortly after this, the child grew a beard.

Some may think to themselves, what does a modern gladiator look like? Well, there is only one, true answer to that question. He is strong, with the strength of a jungle lion, but still have the most in-touch and gentle sides that a man can have. He is 5'11" tall with such a ravishing figure that no one shall dare stare upon him. His face - flawless. Sparkling bright blue eyes that reflect both the ocean and the sky. He has a cheeky, yet seductive grin that gradually turns into the most beautiful smile known to man and he has such sexy, sleek and roughed up hair, as red as the molten lava at Mount Saint Helens, that crawls down his face and across his chin; the most stunning beard a woman has ever seen.

Some may think to themselves, what does a modern gladiator act like? He acts as the Texas Ranger. He moves with ease and grace. His reflexes are unlike no other. He is cool, calm and collected. Ever vigilant for any obstacle that may next come his way. He walks with such confidence and zest, that he could defy the limits of gravity. But, you see, this modern gladiator does not have to act.

Of course this modern gladiator that I speak of is much, much more that just a gladiator, oh yes. He is a man, myth, legend, god. His tears could cure cancer, although he never cries. He has never lost a fight to a pirate, although he likes to say that he has, just to lure them to him. He is the only reason the aliens of the outside worlds haven't attacked yet and he can touch MC Hammer.

But this is nothing. He can stare at a book until the information jumps out at him from pure terror; he sells his sweat as the canned beverage that we know as 'Red Bull'; he can win a game of connect four, with only three moves and his favourite and personal best, he has increased the number of roundhouse kick related deaths by 13000%.

This gladiator, is the one, the only, the invincible, the Chuck Norris.

Yes, the same Chuck Norris that holds every world record. I know that you may not see him in that book, but if you look closely in the very back, in small print it states: "Chuck Norris holds every world record there is, this book is just a publishing of all those that have come the closest."

The same Chuck Norris that his and only his hand can beat a royal flush.

The same Chuck Norris that grinds his coffee with his teeth and boils the water with his rage.

Yes, this is the same Chuck.

Chuck Norris has had such an impact on our world. You see, some people wear Superman pajamas in their day dreaming fantasies to become heroes the same as he, but superman himself, wears Chuck Norris pajamas. He is, in our modern day lives, our gladiator. The man who can slam a revolving door, is, in our society a house-hold name for being nothing more than purely himself.

A pillar of strength when things go astray from the norm. A martial artist, who roundhouse kicks anyone who displeases him. A hero who has no trouble at all taking recognition for all the good things in life, and roundhouse kicks anyone who disagrees. An actor who uses his fame for charitable programs and launches initiatives again drug use, and roundhouse kicks anyone who disobeys!

But Chuck too, has his faults. For example, he knows every meaning of every word in the English language other than mercy. He is currently suing the NBC claiming Law and Order are the trademarked names for his left and right legs. Or perhaps the fact that the only people to get away from Chuck Norris when he is angry with them, are astronauts.

Other than that, though, Chuck Norris has no faults. A perfect being of life. Something, that should be aspired to. A man, to whom age does not take to. A man, who built Rome in a day. A man, who has the ability to lick his own elbow. Who wouldn't want to be able to do that?

Chuck is a one and only. If there were another, it is anticipated that Chuck Norris would meet another Chuck Norris roundhouse kick. Physicists theorize that this contact would end the universe. But that is indeed outlawed.

So every time you think of Chuck Norris, just remember, he is the one who gave Mona Lisa her smile; he is the reason why Wally is hiding; he has counted to infinite, twice; he is the one and only modern day gladiator.

Be bothered...

2009-04-04T17:21:00.000-07:00

Last night I stayed up late to bake some fair trade chocolate cookies for Easter gifts for all my loved ones, and it was really fun! I was thinking to myself that I could just have not done anything, seeing as I didn't have the funds to purchase easter eggs let alone fair trade eggs, but I didn't. I decided to home bake some goodies and had fun, and am very proud with the outcome and hope my friends and family will be too!

It made me think about all those things that we do or don't do because we "can't be bothered"? Why not be bothered? Would you be happy with your life if you looked back to only see moments missed by 'can't be bothered' to do anything or try anything new?

Be bothered, I do say. Why not? Go out into the world with a positive attitude and be bothered to do things, try things, be the person you want to be and experience the world at your doorstep. Don't miss a chance because you can't be bothered - it's a general waste of life not to take advantage of the opportunities out there!

Boredom...

2009-04-01T02:12:00.000-07:00

I sit here at uni with another 2 out of a 5 hour block remaining before my next class with nothing to do, literally. All the computers are taken, (first time in history for this desolate campus), no study to continue with plus I've just bored my myself out with reading numerous texts to which are horribly unenjoyable thank to the ridiculous amounts of copious readings required in my current studies from the uni library. I'm hungry and the canteen is packed, I'd go somewhere but I'm broke and I'm sitting here... bored.

Now, the ironic part of all of this is that I get quite abusive and irritant towards people that update their facebook status with "bored, bored, bored" and I think to myself, "get off your bottom and do something then..."... and yet here I am, experiencing the core of boredom. Hypocrite, anyone? Or perhaps not, for the genuine fact that I sit with little to no options for stimulation and therefore boredom is a popular choice that I'm cornered into...

Bogan Pride, Humanity’s Disgust.

2009-03-24T04:27:00.000-07:00

I wrote this a fair while ago, but it's still valid...

Bogan Pride, Humanity’s Disgust.

bogan: n. ‘slang word for dirty and rude person/s.

pride: n. ‘a feeling of elation or satisfaction at achievements, qualities or possessions, etc that do one credit.

“Excuse me sir”, said the young upper class gentlemen to the scruffy Bogan man wearing no shoes. “Unfortunately, I must inform you that your dirty and rude qualities do not do you any credit”.

Bogan Pride, created by comedienne Rebel Wilson, is a television comedy skit show produced with a quirky; over-exaggerate view of the school and social life of a teenage ‘bogan’ and her alike family. Although in understanding the ‘extreme comedy’ approach this show has taken for our entertainment purposes such as the exaggeration of bodily chaffing to smell like hot meals, somewhere along the continuum we must draw the line and I propose that the exploitive representation of abuse within respite care for people with disabilities for distasteful and inappropriate entertainment values marks that line.

I recently wrote a letter to the team at Bogan Pride expressing my disgust and dissatisfaction with this issue. I explained that I believe that not only does the disabled population deserve better representation, but also the general public should be treated with a higher level of humour rather than to laugh at the exploitation of others. However I am now compelled to feel more disappointment in my fellow first world citizens, due to the lack of support that I received. I am disappointed that the fellow citizens I spoke out to asking for help did not seem to acknowledge the importance of this situation and had little faith that any change could come from any efforts, and therefore did nothing. These are the same fellow citizens that demand this exploitation for their nightly entertainment; that encourage the outrageous use of inappropriate materials for their own selfish values.

However, this is not only the full burden of Bogan Pride, but also many comedy movies and television shows exploiting the disadvantaged; poor, disabled, socially excluded, etc; for a laugh, with the general public contributing towards the encouragement for further exploitation, all in the name of entertainment.

I, of course, received no reply to my letter explaining my disappointment, however that was highly anticipated. What’s one less viewer anyway, right? Wrong. The Australian public has the abilities to make change in the mainstream entertainment, which is the prime target group for advertising mediums, and one less viewer, means one more person that is unhappy with the entertainment shown of TV, and therefore, will not have that one person’s support for the show.

Media and entertainment, as the main portal into guiding the future generations and we, as nurturers not only for the future generations, but the future for ourselves also, have social responsibilities to accept; to set the ground rules for the future; the guidelines for making change; the course of action for a better world. Act now.

Daddy's Princess

2009-03-24T04:23:00.000-07:00

She waits. She waits for him. Standing there in the cold, lacking warmth. No blankets could fulfill the warmth that she needs. As she peers through the window, she begins to burn from the inside out. Her heart was on fire as she sees him. From the outside of his heart, she sees him. By a fire, warm with love with his new family. The ones that she was replaced by, as she stands, locked out side of his heart. Waiting, waiting, anticipating the moment when he'll open the locks and reach for her with caring, loving and outstretched arms. She waits.

There is a small child. She looks up at her father with the same glistening blue eyes as he has, admiring his strength, personality, love - and in one brief moment, there is a connection between them, a connection, that is unbreakable.

When she was young, she used to be daddy's little girl. To him, she did no wrong. The love they shared was amazing. It was relationship that some people would only ever dream of having. But as time moved on, that relationship began to change. It started when he moved out, to be closer to work. Then he slowly began to visit only twice a week... only once a week, down to the occasional phone call. They began to drift apart.

More years pass and her parents break up and her father, within less that 2 weeks of him leaving, her father was engaged to another woman and had unofficially adopted her children as his very own. She is no longer his responsibility; he feels that his new children now come first. She is lost, confused. She is disappointed. She is hurt and she now feels disposable. That same girl, 5 years on, now a young lady, again looks up at her father with the same glistening blue eyes as he has, with the same love and hope as before, but this time she sees something different. She sees an immature, cowardly and irresponsible man. Her heart breaks to know that the man she once knew as her hero, her father, the man that accepted her as his responsibility, can throw all her loving thoughts of him away in an instance, with one word, with one action.

To feel that he has disposed of her. A disposable responsibility, like unfinished business that he couldn't be bothered seeing through... to be rejected by someone you love so much. That man will never be seen the same through those glistening blue eyes. She sees him there, he seems familiarly but yet, completely unknown to her.

Her aching heart continually increases every time she is reminded of his mistakes, his new family and his new life. She is left struggling for attention, continually pushing and craving for that fatherly love that is not longer there. Although she is not alone, with a wonderful family, the one thing that she needs for her life to feel complete, is the one simple ting that her arms are too short to reach.

She cries, but he doesn't hear her. She reaches for him, but he pulls away. She speaks, but his ears won't listen.

The aching in her heart continually increases every time she is reminded of his mistakes and his new family. But you see, he doesn't see wrong in his actions. To him, he has done nothing hurtful, spiteful or unforgivable. His conscious doesn't tell him when he is hurting her. He does not understand how she us unforgiving of his decisions. She wants him. He doesn't want her. She wants his love. He doesn't understand.

That girl will never see her father the same again. She will never feel the same towards him again. She will never be strong enough to rebuild that unbreakable connection with him.

She waits. She waits. The fire inside burns out and she can see the family sleeping, dreaming beautiful, sweet dreams. As the last of the coal burns to dust, she stands there. Locked outside hid heart, waiting and waiting. Forever waiting and anticipating the moment when he'll open the locks and reach for her with caring, loving and outstretched arms. She will wait.

Just my views on things. Take it, or leave it.

2009-03-23T05:24:00.000-07:00

I am simply me. Yes, I’m 19 years old. Yes I still live with my mother after a failed attempt to move out of home, and yes, that was me eating spoonfuls of Milo in the kitchen at work. No, I don’t smoke. No, I don’t drink. No, I’m not abnormal, I’m simply me. Yes, I do care. Take it, or leave it.

I would, however, like a keyboard. Unfortunately, to my demise, my younger sister has publicly announced that she would like an electric keyboard for Christmas, and now with this statement, if I was to acquire my own, it would be on the terms of ‘copying’ her, and me as the oldest child, doesn’t want to seem as if I am that desperate to be “hip” that I would stoop so low as to appear that I would be ‘copying’ my sisters intentions. Damn it. I wish I had said it first.

If I were an elephant, I would stomp all my problems away. Squish emotional torture; squish worldly injustices; squish some of my family members. Squish mainstream society’s views on everything. Squish, squish… SQUISH! My, wouldn’t I feel better. Now… why aren’t I an elephant?

It’s because I’m cursed! Or perhaps, not blessed… but either way it’s not good and I don’t like it. This is my view. Why must I continue to carry on in a world where millions of people are suffering from poverty, hunger, homelessness, war, violence, terror, greed, guilt, social degradation, supremacy and yet, I am filled with sadness for my petty little life. A life that is safe, adored, tried and purposeful – or is it? I spend my days mulling over cups of earl grey and peppermint teas about how best I can work for a better future for the world and yet nearly every day, am discouraged by selfish and ignorant people that fill my heart with shame. I care, I do, but how strong can one be against such ridiculous purpose-killers and those who can’t see past their beady little lives? Already, I am beginning to loose my passion, because I don’t think my kind-heart will last in a world of shame, a world where your pre-determined social status and the people-fuelled-ridicule plans out your future, when there are so many more important things on this beautiful Earth that we may take for granted.

I am often saddened. Saddened by the fact that my cute little four dollar, size ten knickers I recently bought on sale from Best and Less are in fact too small for my ever-growing large bottom. Saddened that there is a global food crisis and yet there is also a ‘first-world global’ obesity crisis. Saddened by the fact that I am continually discouraged by people I love and people I care about. Saddened that I don’t have anyone to comfort me when I’m low and to listen when I need to talk. Saddened that my sister got in first for the keyboard request and saddened to realise that we live in a world where people just don’t care.

I came across a display plaque designed by Kelly Lane recently that says: “You have two hands, one to help yourself and the second to help others”, of which I was inspired and filled with love for my fellow man and the position that I may be in to be able to help.

Determined to not give up, I bought this little encourager, along with my organic peppermint and lemongrass soap, and walked out the store with a brightened mind that it is possible to remain committed, because people are worth it. And as I left the shopping centre ready for home, a car drove past me with a little girl slumping over the back passenger side window holding an up-side down rude finger at me, and shifting her eyes as to see if her parents could see what she was up to, and I said to myself “Yes. This whole save humanity is definitely worth fighting for. This is what I want to do.”

A collection of positive fuel feeders are definitely needed. I recently signed up to sponsor a child in India and her photo helps to ground my thoughts about why I do what I do and why I can become a part of the people fighting for a better future. There are many feel good stories, articles, music and movies out there and I thought it definitely appropriate to share mine too, because it’s not easy always fighting for justice and equality and fairness, but it’s something that needs to be done or the world is doomed forever. How irresponsible is man to allow certain issues to get as far as they are without taking dominant, positive action towards making a change for the better?

I don’t have a keyboard and I can’t see myself getting one in the near future. I am not an elephant, and I don’t think I’m “unblessed” or cursed but I am stuck between the ‘conforming to society’s standards in order to have a chance to change the world’ and ‘standing up for what I believe in and having a harder time making change’ – and it’s not easy when you hit this spot, and I’m working towards finding those positive fuel feeders – that daring, cheeky little car girl as one to start. This was naughty, yes, however allowing children the chance to grow and learn and discover is the key to the future, and I will remember her gesture when life’s decisions begin to get tough. And just in case you were interested, yes, that really was me in the kitchen at work eating Milo by the spoonful.

Keep up the good fight and think of the little things that may make the fight a little easier for you, or, you are welcome to share my thoughts.

Many positive fuel feeders,

SM.

And action.

2008-09-07T01:56:00.000-07:00

Dear All,

This is my first blog post on my new blog - as I had one however my email has changed and it has been a mighty long time since I have been on the internet, and it was easy to start another.

Here I will post my writings, experiences, loves, hates and general comments on life and the world as I perceive it; welcome and enjoy.

SM