For the last week and the one coming I’ve been on uni holidays. Given that I work full time, you wouldn’t think that would make much difference. Surprisingly though, it has made a huge difference. I’ve got two extra nights at home.
When I did my undergraduate degree I would go out a whole lot more when I was on uni holidays. For some reason now I’ve had the complete opposite reaction. Even on weekends I’ve just pottered around the house, rather than going out.
I think my homebody-tendencies have come from a subconscious recognition that I need rest. To not do much. I feel more relaxed than I have in a long time. And I’ve been writing much more than usual as well, which is never a bad thing.
This morning I woke up and read this lovely quote over on black*eiffel
. Seems quite appropriate for how I’ve been feeling lately.
“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.” – Steve Jobs
image by scilit
I haven’t written for a few weeks now. I’ve tried – I’ve sat at a blank page, waiting and thinking of something interesting to come many a time. Somehow nothing I had to say seemed quite right.
I’ve been feeling a little bit lost lately. A little bit torn between wanting to have a plan and being enthusiastic and ready to get on with life, and having no idea whatsoever what I feel like doing with myself. Sometimes I get caught up in all the “should do this” and “have to do this’s”.
The upside to all of this is that in the last week or so I’ve began to try not to listen to all of that going on in my head, and not worry about where my life is going for awhile. And I feel a little bit more free. I know that I’ll work it all out as it comes and until then I am going to enjoy this time that I have, being young, being around people that I love and being open to where ever life may take me….
Image by aprilbrimer
It’s a Friday evening and I’m filling in time. I’m about to get on a bus to Canberra to visit my folks and I’m really looking forward to it. I love spending time with my family – I’m constantly amazed at how much more I appreciate them after living so far away from them.
But I’m also looking forward to the trip itself. I’ve got three hours to myself to write, read, stare off into space, listen to music. And when I get to the other end I’ll no doubt stay up late with my parents and brothers talking and yawning. Tomorrow night we’re going out f0r dinner to celebrate Mum’s birthday, which was last weekend.
This little sojourn co-incides with the start of uni holidays. While I’m still working full time, I’m glad of the break. It will give me a bit more time at home, something I’ll appreciate even more after a weekend away. And I’ll have more time to write.
On Saturday morning I was supposed to go to a writers’ group with my cousin, who is also a writer. I got up early and went to the supermarket to do my week’s shopping (I can’t stand the crowds of a Saturday afternoon) and got through a few loads of washing before my cousin was due to pick me up at 9.15. It was warm, sunny and I felt on top of things.
Then plans changed. Car troubles meant that my cousin was unable to pick me up, and neither of us could go to the writers’ meet. Strangely, though, I wasn’t overly disappointed. I had wanted to go, had been looking forward to it, but now I had the whole morning to myself. And it was a beautiful day!
From about 10am until 6pm, when some friends arrived for pre-gig drinks, I sat in my shady backyard and read and wrote. It was lovely.
My change of plans coincided with a change in weather; and I was reminded that sometimes all one needs is a change.
Image by tofrg – I wish I could say this was an image of my backyard…
For a variety of reasons, this month I’ve had the circus on my mind. So we thought we’d set it as the theme for this month’s Monday Project.
Feel free to keep your responses as light and fluffy as you like, or to delve deep into some kind of dark, creepy world behind the tent flaps.
The deadline for this project will be Monday 6 October.
As usual, please send through any responses to email@example.com.
Photo by isabella.jorgensen.
This weekend I attended ‘Guwanyi’: National Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Writers’ Festival. It was held at the New South Wales Writers’ Centre on a very rainy Saturday. The Writers’ Centre is a lovely old building inside Rozelle Hospital grounds; and the perfect location for such a festival.
I went with another non-indigenous friend and we agreed that it was an insightful experience to listen to so many writers of indigenous background talk about their experiences, both as people and as writers; and to do so with a certain level of objectivity, not playing the part of the bitter victim, a box I believe Aboriginal people often find themselves in. So many of the writers had very moving, and sometimes tragic, personal and familial histories.
Many writers that I speak to write about themselves. Maybe not directly, but definitely on some kind of subconscious level they write about how they experience the world. At the moment I find it very difficult to do this. I often write about sadness, but it is not very often my own.
I realised yesterday that I have often felt like my own experiences and the way I think about the world are not interesting enough to write about. I am middle class and white. I had a lovely childhood and still have a loving family. I have already received a good education and am in a position to pursue further study. I am in no way complaining about any of these things, quite the opposite: I am very thankful for them.
My point is that I have never felt like I can write about myself because my life does not really provide any interesting material. And so I write other people’s stories.
Of course, just because I don’t write about myself does not mean I don’t write for myself. And, in the end, I guess people that have had incredible experiences and go on to write about them are doing the same: writing for themselves.
I’m not sure what my overall point is here, exactly. I guess I’m interested to find out what motivates other people to create. Is it an exploration or an exorcisim of sorts?
A new project tomorrow! And we will put the responses to the last up sometime this week. Apologies for the disorganisation this month.
Image by soartsyithurts.
PS. I am aware of the irony inherent in me writing a post all about how I don’t write about myself!