A blog of random stuff…just cause

Hello world! Gosh I feel like I’ve been in some sort of hibernation! I’m not entirely sure why I’ve slacked off on the blogging. Perhaps it’s kind of become like my once loved dairy: occasionally paid attention to, but usually only to write bad stuff. I was going to do something clever with that…I thought there could be a cool metaphor there (I’m all about those metaphors and similes)…but then I remembered I’m tired, I’ve been studying psychology or I’ve written away my life and have finger cramp from work. Clever metaphors don’t really happen when I’m tired, or they fall seriously flat and people just feel sorry for me.

I started a new gym yesterday. It was as terrifying as one might imagine. I find gyms incredibly frightening. If you wander around trying to find everything and it’s not in the place you want and you stop and stare around with this panicked look on your face…everyone turns to look at you like the zombies look at humans on the walking dead. I want to resist the urge to throw my water bottle and phone at them with a ‘ah! This is too hard!’

But it’s ok. Sam was there and because he looks like he belongs in a gym, I felt safe…secure. Like the gym zombies were not going to come after me should I make a wrong move.

But I now have a sore back. Because I did back yesterday. I have a weak lower back and I’m crying a little inside about that right now.

So I was reading back through my blog (I only read 2015 because anything before that is just plain embarrassing… have a read if you want a laugh), and I realised a year a go today (cheers Facebook!) I was planning my overseas trip, my cat buttons had to be put down, one of my horses I sold had to be put down, I lost my cat Snuggie, and I sold my foal.

The point of mentioning that is I wrote a big post about ‘letting go’ this time last year. I was going to write a big spiel about how ‘I’ve come so far with letting go’ because I can deal with someone else riding my horse and be happy about it (a year ago only two people had ridden her during the six years I had owned her, and that was one ride each… so…)

By letting go I mean letting go of control. So, you see, pretty much, with my brain being super tired I’m not going to attempt to write a big long, super inspirational blog about it because in all honestly, I’m still terrible at it.

Two years ago, and it was well documented on here, I had what I would call the start of a breakdown. It wasn’t terrible, most people weren’t super aware of it. Just I had this over whelming urge to escape. A lot of that came because everything felt ‘out of my control’. I was a mess; sobbing each night to friends and family about how I ‘just couldn’t do it anymore’.

In hindsight, now I’m studying counselling, I probably should have seen a counsellor. But ya know, dropping everything and going around the world works too.

Here’s the thing though… it felt out of my control and it WAS out of my control. There was a fairly good list of crappy things that just weren’t going well and the things that were going well I didn’t feel equipped to manage. I needed to leave and it turned out to be the best thing for me. But I think it’s taught me a very valuable snippet of knowledge: it’s all out of your control.

In my study I recently learnt about flow…if people have challenges they can rise to and they feel equipped or able to do so, they achieve flow (it’s a good state of mind is what I’ve gathered). If the challenge is too much for the persons perceived ability to handle it, or if the challenge is not enough, that is when you get someone who is unproductive/frustrated or stressed. (I mainly added this in here so I can prove to myself I’m learning stuff and actually start remembering it…forgive me if it’s only 90% accurate)

Dad always says (kind of, the follow quote I actually found on a quote site thingy): “Life is 10% what happens to you, 90% how you react to it”.

It is true. I will accept that. But it’s damn hard! It’s hard to be happy and positive when, while I enjoy my job, I don’t feel like it’s as challenging as it could be, where I feel study is too challenging and it’s damn scary! It’s easy to fall into the mindset of ‘panic, I’m stressed!’ I am not at all achieving flow in any areas of my life. Currently I’m studying motivation and emotion for my final exam, so I’ll bore you all with that next blog.

I am, at the moment, constantly in a battle with my mind of ‘it’s ok, you are capable’ and ‘take a moment to breathe, now start from the beginning’ and ‘I WANNA MAKE IT ALL STOP. I QUIT BEING A GROWN UP!’ The last part is usually said (silently so people think I’m kind of normal) in my head with the picture of me throwing a tantrum on the ground.

It takes a great amount of determination to remind myself day in, day out that I need to a) be patient and wait until the doors start to open..quit trying to pound them down and b) appreciate life being momentarily slower than usual and c) do as much with what I have right now and d) I will get my chance to make a change and a difference, I’m just in a growth phase.

That all might sound cheesy, but it’s true. Some moments are ‘go moments’ and some are ‘whoa moments’. There are times I am riding my horse and we focus on the boring stuff: learning how to listen, how to relax, how to work correctly. Then there are the moments we throw it all out the window and go as fast as we can…but I always know in those moments I’ve put the work in to learn, so when I need an automatic and immediate response to a problem while going a million miles an hour…I have it. There are also the moments, like in the jumping ring, where it’s a combination of give it your all, but use the lessons every step of the way and the more you know, the more you achieve.

Right now I’m in a whoa moment. It’s not the time to be going as fast as I can taking in everything around the world, testing my responses. It’s the time to focus and learn and listen…and wait. There will be another go moment.

And I need to remind myself of that.

 

 

 

 

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Deep breaths and take 10

It takes a while to stop running. It’s like braking a car on ice, the faster you’ve been travelling the longer it’s going to take you to stop. Me, I’ve been travelling my whole life at 100 miles per hour. I never stop. The last time I took ‘time out’ and went on a holiday was when I was about 10, with the family to a place called Dunk Island off the coast of Australia. I’m nearly 22 and it occurred to me just before I booked my tickets, that I don’t stop.

I’ve always been told to ‘slow down’ by every health professional under the sun, but the older I get the clearer the picture of ‘slowing down’ becomes. I would always take time out for me, perhaps a cup of tea and a good TV show, perhaps a run or a bit of yoga, but life never actually stopped.

By stop I don’t mean take yourself away from it all and do nothing, I mean stop doing what has become the norm.

At 16 I decided I was leaving school to study journalism and I did just that. I spent the first six months of study having fun and letting loose before I met Alex and I calmed down a tad. Second year was more demanding work wise with study and I began to increase my competitiveness with horse riding. Plus travelling each weekend to see Alex meant life was about doing a series of events which I had titled ‘life’.

In my third year I was juggling full time competition on my horse, completing four internships, finishing a degree and a diploma, and seeing Alex on weekends. I finished study and three weeks later was in a job. And I worked but butt off in that job, because I loved it.

But I never stopped.

And it was a terrifying thought at 21 to realise I’d spent my whole life completing a series of events which I would one day call my life.

So here I am, unemployed, sitting on a balcony in Cambodia, and breathing. My speeding car is slowing down on the ice.

It’s not a holiday from life, it’s a change in my life. It’s me finally saying ‘I want to be happy and I don’t want to be running’. Just because I loved my job and I love competitions, it didn’t mean they were good for me. And it didn’t mean they made me happy. And that’s a really hard concept to get my head around sometimes.

When I first arrived here I had this deep feeling of unrest, like I was unable to pause and not plan. I had this unbelievable desire to find security in things like stress. I like to be busy so I do not have to challenge my way of thinking or being.

Now I am starting to just relax and actually enjoy not having a to do list that takes over my life, I can just stop and take life in.

Change is just as good as a break.

4 and a half years ago

4 and a half years ago. That’s a little while really. Many things change in 4 and a half years. I covered a story tonight, in a small rural town that my boyfriend lives in. This is the sort of place you kind of know where it is but most people never stop here. It has a tiny population and it is one of the last places on earth you expect to run into people you haven’t seen for 4 and a half years. 

But tonight, in the town hall, in this small rural town, at 8pm, on a Saturday, I met him again. I don’t even know if I can say again because I don’t know if I ever met him to start with. I was 15. I dated his best friend. He was with this girl at the time, a pretty blonde girl. His best friend had just cheated on me (well, he says he didn’t… it’s a twisted story and not really one worth telling) and proceeded to dump me. To be perfectly honest I don’t think I ever cared a whole bunch. None the less, that sort of thing hurts at 15. This guy (tonight man) began talking to me and we were best friends, or in my 15 year old world we were. We spoke every day all day and I relied entirely on him to get through the next few strange, borderline hellish months of boy drama. 

Then we stopped. I don’t know why, perhaps he does but I don’t. I’m not even sure there was a reason. We were amazingly close friends. To this day I don’t think he realizes just how much he helped me. 

But on my silver flip top phone with limited colour and a pixilated screen he became my everything. Then, just like that, he stopped. 

4 and a half years later there he was. In a small rural town, at 8pm, in the town hall. Standing with a friend who knew the friend I was there with. I didn’t even recognize his face till someone said his name. Then it hit me. Like a punching bag I didn’t get of the way of when in full swing it smacked me, straight between the eyes. Just like that, there he was. He’s been here for a long time. He’s even worked with my boyfriends mother. I never knew. 

It is a bazar sequence of events which lead to seeing him again. I hope to go out to coffee with him. 

This time I brought up the boyfriend topic BEFORE we went to coffee, though I am pretty sure his intentions are quite contrary to crash guy.

In 4 and a half years the things I have done – the things that have changed! I no longer have braces, I discovered pretty undergarments, I got a little more clued up on fashion, I changed my hair colour a million times. I haven’t grown a whole lot (height wise), possibly 3 cm. I left home. Had several boyfriends. Now am in a serious relationship. Grew my hair out. Have nearly finished a degree. There are just so many little tiny things that are so astonishingly different.

He was part of a chapter I thought I had long closed – a chapter that linked into almost everything I do and have now. A weird and perhaps one of the most testing times of my life. Interesting none the less. I often wondered what became of him. Now I suppose I shall find out.

Let the adventure being. 

500kg’s of life lesson

There are numerous things that put people off when you begin a conversation. One of them I have discovered over the years is horses. But this, I just have to share. Horse humor is certainly one of my favorite things. As someone who quite often finds herself flying through the air at a great rate and landing on the ground with either a thud or a groan, it is a good way to ease the bruised ego.

The thing though I have learnt is horse riding applies to almost everything. After riding for 11 years you sort of learn how to apply it to everything.

You have reins, anyone who has ridden a horse before knows (or should) what these are. You hold them in your hands – they are your handle bars. When you pull the horse should stop, when you turn them, the horse should turn and when you let them go (slightly) the horse should relax… and most of the time moves forward. It gets more complex but thats the general idea.

When jumping a horse you learn many things. How to fly. How to land from a great height, how to treat sand burn, what surfaces are the best to fall from a great height onto, poles are hard, the horses head is really hard and nothing will go as you expect.

The more you pull on the reins and ‘hold’ the horse and try to control it, the more it pulls away. When I say pull I mean pull like someone ripping your arms out. Things start to go backwards and sometimes, quite literally. Pretty much the more you try to hold on and wait, wait, wait for the right moment, the more likely you are to by jumping that jump on your own… or not at all. 

You can’t always be going faster then slower and gripping. You have to let go, relax and hold steady. Find your rhythm and just let it happen. No over thinking. No worrying. You have to simply rely on what you have learnt and trust if you don’t know, you’re about to learn quickly. You have to trust that that 500kg animal below you will in fact take off and clear the jump with you securely in the saddle and land again on it’s feet.

That is something you have to do. It takes courage to point a horse at a jump, no matter how big. It takes courage just to get on the damn thing!

Life is exactly like that. The tighter you grip and the more you slow things down so you can get it just right, the more likely you are to miss it all together – to stuff it up and physic yourself out. Alternatively, if you go flying a million miles ahead all the time you’re going to crash and it will be spectacular and you wont be the one laughing.

You have to trust that the big monster life is, is going to take you somewhere. Somewhere grand and that it will make it over the obstacles and around the bends. That sometimes you will have to pick up the pace and sometimes you will have to steadily keep on going. You’re also going to need to learn when to stop.

At the end of the day life takes courage. You have to get on to start with and when you fall, you’ve got to just pick yourself back up and keep going. There is no gripping of reins and fighting for control. That can’t be an option if it’s going to be a successful event. 

It’s just got to happen. And it all comes down to trusting that it will. 

Saddle up, get on and keep your heals down.

Guard goose and vampires

Today they took my blood. It really hurt. It still really hurts. I then proceeded to snap at the lady who didn’t understand why I was returning a call I had been asked to return. I told her, in a very simple manner, why I was calling back and the information I was asked to give. If they have to take more of my blood because of her incompetence I will be mad. Very mad.

Today has been an interesting day. My class mates have established I am playing with fire when it comes to crash guy… well yea. Though I am staring down the barrel of the gun knowing the trigger will never be pulled. So really, I’m just playing with matches. That was too cryptic. I think my brain is still feeling the effects of losing 9 vials of its blood. I don’t like blood tests.

Either way, it looks like the tale of crash guy may be over. It often takes people a while (some not so long) to realise I am stubborn, only do things if they right or my boss says or I want to. If it’s work, always as my boss says… anything else in life – that’s on my terms. Not because I’m pig-headed, though I am, but because I do not believe there is any reason to do things that are running you into the ground and destroying your soul. I don’t really let people control how I feel and that seems to frustrate guys. Seemingly, particularly crash guy.

On the other hand, my boyfriend wants a pet ‘guard’ goose. I am considering this is where I draw the line at tolerance (seeing as he wont let me get a small dog) and crash guy might get what he’s after anyway. That is if he starts talking to me again. Perhaps I should learn to be less blunt. No, probably won’t. The editor in residence told me there wasn’t much a of line between what I thought and what I wrote… he’d be right. I should probably do something about that too.

So, if I do keep the boyfriend it will be without a goose.

And I really don’t like giving away my blood.

The Great of great.

On seeing my friend had written about the Great Gatsby, it reminded me how much I loved the movie. The story line was quite nice, the concept was quite cool and the lessons were quite meaningful. What I loved though was the extravagance! A fairytale bought into the adult world. Oh how I wanted a house so big I could get lost in it with curtains that danced throughout the room when the wind blew in or laws so perfectly mowed it looked as though someone had painted them. 

I wanted big dresses and fast cars and horses that were exceptionally groomed. A little cottage next door and a pool that looked so crystal you could drink from it. Or perhaps it was the food and the dancing and the parties! Oh how I wanted to party! A mindless whirlwind of dancing and laughing and frolicking! 

It was a film of pure dream. Of course until it all ended badly, sadly and without event other than to leave one a little shell shocked at the fact all this extravagance amounted to nothing. 

I wanted to run away at that moment and join in. I wanted so badly to take that life. That is the signature of a good film.

Let’s go to Paris on one too many cocktails!

When it’s going good, it’s going great. When it’s not going good, well, then the world seems to grab the popcorn and watch me plunder. 

Oh I can’t complain too much. I mean life is pretty good. I just think there are many things that could be going better. Perhaps it is the small part of perfectionist in me peaking its shy head through the long grass the not so perfectionist side of me forgot to cut. 

My weekend began with a ‘I remember why I don’t drink Vodka’ moment as I dragged my ass out of bed, quickly though, my wonderful body recovered back to it’s happy little self. Thank goodness for only drinking a couple of cocktails! Never the less. No more Vodka. Ever! I mean it this time. That stuff is just nasty! 

It was a night of city lights and high rise apartments. After a nice hot pools date with my bestie, her boyfriend and one of his work mates (not really a date, more of a sort’ve date but not really a date…) the Italian. We Then proceeded to be bad and stay out past 10pm on a friday night and catch up with Winston. Oh I still love that name! I want to write a book just to use it! He’s Canadian.

We did feel terribly naughty being out past 10. It was a innocent child like giggling that made me seem drunk, though I was rather sober and brought back many happy feelings of excitement and sneakiness I thought had been long buried!

Winston’s flatmate was a poet, a good one too. Indian and rather polished. He was off to Europe in a few weeks. So Winston, is moving apartment to one with ‘a better view’. SERIOUSLY! My mind boggled at the thought of having that luxury! Bring on the expensive wine and pallet tingling deserts! 

As the night proceeded I did feel some what in a fairytale. The kind of one I dreamt about when I was young and thought I’d never have to be flatting or saving money. The poet invited me to Paris with him. If he was paying I’d be half tempted to say yes. My boyfriend should feel special I only considered running away with him for a fleeting second. I mean that with the utmost sincerity. 

After a taxi ride home and much dreaming of what it would be like to live their life for one day I did have to marvel at the fact I no longer yearned to have that life. I liked to play a role in it, a fleeting appearance once in a while. But I am actually happy with my not-so-upper-class life. Not that I’m living by the bones of the backside by any means.

I was chuffed Winston thought I was from a rich family because of how I dressed (ironically in pants I brought for $30 and a shirt I got on sale for $20 and shoes I also got on sale for $30 as well as hot pool hair and chipped nail polish).

Oh upper-class indeed!

  

The tale of the journalism kid

Ahh, reporting. I do enjoy the newsroom atmosphere. Between Melissa singing her strange jingles for almost everything usually ending with her own name… then you have the usual banter between each other, the ribbing and then Melissa’s off the cuff comments topped by some inappropriately timed comment from one of the boys… then Melissa not quite getting it. I like it. It makes me laugh. 

Our ghost has been quiet today… I’m not sure why… maybe he doesn’t like dryers or sunny days? My mind boggles… 

Of course then there is the increasingly growing pile of washing in my room- topped off by the washing thats been sitting in the washing machine for a week… It’s one of those ‘please please please just be done without me having to lift a finger!’ type things… perhaps our ghost could help me out? 

Then there’s the vacuuming, (still find it strange that word has two u’s… it just doesn’t feel right)… our floor is looking increasingly suspect… 

And sky seems to have this amazing new talent for selecting certain channels not to work on… I mean thats just brilliant… I don’t pay enough money as it is to watch it… 

Then again I don’t really have the time to do so… so I suppose I can’t really complain… perhaps they’re doing me a favor… 

My list goes on. 

In between the chaotic madness that has become a somewhat enjoyable insanity of my life, I have managed to eat crackers and cheese, read TWO- not one… but TWO gossip mag’s and have time for nearly 8 hours sleep each night! 

Brillance. 

The interesting facts you wrote over.

Due to my shockingly short attention span, I am back. And probably will be many more times tonight. Since having to actually write articles and know people, I have opened many doors I shut. Not really ones I slammed, just ones that sort’ve blew closed on their own. It has made me realize my past isn’t such a bad, hide behind closed doors, sort’ve thing. Its wonderful actually. I have met some amazing and really quite interesting people over my life time.

Of course at the time they were hotties or just someone to spend time with and sometimes even boy friends. Now though, they are interesting specimens of fascination and difference.

One thing Journalism is certainly teaching me, is to never write someone off. Everyone has something they can contribute, something interesting or perhaps even ordinary that other people would want to know about. I think its really pretty cool.

The idea of opening my mind to what the world can really offer is one of extreme excitement and total exhilaration.