Fight for power

cats

Pebbles and Buttons

Pebbles and Buttons are my two little cats
She’s quite slim, while he’s far too fat

Pebbles sits atop the kitty tower
Possibly hoping she’ll have the power

While Buttons lazily sprawls on the floor
Knowing he’s the boss, he gently snores

(c) Sanch @ Living my Imperfect Life

Until next time,

Cheers!!


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On learning to be creative

creativity

It started with a story. A lie, perhaps. About a dog. She created a pet out of nowhere and talked about him to her friends. Word got back to her mother: ‘So when did you guys a dog?’ After finding out that she’d been confabulating, she got into trouble. It didn’t stop her from telling stories. Except this time, she wrote them down on paper. Or she created them in her head and shared them out loud to help her little sister fall asleep.

It continued with some scribbles in class. And then a few words. The words joined together to form some rhymes. They seemed to flow during the most mundane times. Like when it was essential to focus in science or social studies. The rhymes found their way onto the backs of school books. At other times they were scribbled on the desk.

People around her were good at dancing or singing or art. She didn’t think she had any gifts. Of course she wasn’t creative. She had two left feet, could only sing in the shower and couldn’t draw to save her life. She’d hidden her poems and stories, too shy to let the world see them. Some others had found their way into the dustbin.

It was only one day when her seven year old sister came home from school and told her that her class had loved the story she’d written, that she realised she just probably could write. Sure, she was mad at her sister for taking her story without permission but she was secretly pleased at the response.

Was it a gift? She couldn’t tell.

But it was something that she could work on.

So she wrote for years — a scribble here and a scribble there. Poetic lines and rhymes. She had only one critic as she was afraid for the world to see them. Slowly and surely, she let the world see her pieces. It was easier as they couldn’t see her. But her love for writing grew and to nurture this creativity, she took up a course. A course that would open her up to face-to-face feedback. A daunting task but one that she has been doing for over a year.

She can see herself getting better. Nowhere close to some others she admires. But far better than where she has been.

If you ask her can creativity be learned, she’ll tell you it can be pruned and honed.

Because, in the end, everyone can write. Everyone has a story.

We just need help in telling it.

To do that, we need to be brave to share it.

***Linking with the Write Tribe Festival of Words Four – Day 1***

Until next time,

Cheers!!!


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Where did the weekend go

Why is it that weekends just speed past? Sure, I worked this Saturday morning, but it seemed a lot shorter than a day and a half of rest and relaxation. Probably because I didn’t really rest or relax.

All dressed up

All dressed up

We had a wedding to attend on Saturday for Mr Imperfect’s friends. He’s friends with both the bride and groom. They had a church wedding in the burbs in the arvo followed by the reception in the city in the evening. So far, I’ve only been to two weddings. Neither of those were church weddings with my friend while being religious, still opting for a short wedding with a priest and my other friend S opting for one by a celebrant in the Botanical gardens. While this wedding was long by those standards, it was still way shorter {and therefore more bearable} than Indian weddings! It was a beautiful ceremony. The reception was quite lovely too. The food was great and the speech by the groom in particular was very sweet. What surprised me was that there wasn’t a single speech by any of the women — no mums, no bridesmaid and no bride. But the groom, the best man, and fathers from both sides spoke. It frustrated me a bit but then again, each to their own. It was a very traditional wedding  carefully planned and thought out.

Not something I’m going to be doing.

Tara Moss signing books

Tara Moss signing books

On Sunday, I headed down to the Southern Highlands after making a decision mid-last week to see Tara Moss speak as part of the Sydney Writer’s Festival in Bowral. She is such an intelligent and charming woman. I’ve heard her speak before and I’m in awe. I’m so looking forward to reading her book The Fictional Woman. After her talk, I got my book signed by her and headed to have a solo coffee while editing my short stories for uni. They are due this week.

Editing those stories with a cuppa

Editing those stories with a cuppa

It was lovely to head down to Bowral and while I enjoyed most of my weekend, it wasn’t completely without the downs I have been experiencing. It’s good to know though that I can still plaster a smile on my face and carry on.

This time, next week, if all goes to plan, I will be up in the air on my way to San Francisco. I’m shitting myself at all that’ s left to do and am a bit anxious about the flying part {International travel does that to me}. I’m also not looking forward to leaving my kitties and Mr Imperfect for 5 whole weeks. Of course, seeing my family and one of my friends is definitely something to look forward to.

How was your weekend? Get up to anything exciting?

Do share!

***Linking with Alicia for Open Slather and Mel for Microblog Mondays***

Until next time,

Cheers!!!


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A mindful walk

You probably know that I haven’t been feeling the best in terms of my mood. While I’m hoping it will pass, I have been doing things to help myself. One such thing was on Sunday. Mr Imperfect and I went for a walk at our local beach and I decided to take my proper point-and-shoot camera with me. It’s not seen the light of day for ages!

It was the best decision as Sunday turned out to be pretty damn good. I love the beach and the walk along the Esplanade. We also saw four fishermen who managed to get their boat stuck on the rocks. Apart from that, I enjoyed capturing moments with surfers and divers and just people walking and enjoying their Sunday. Most importantly, I just soaked in the sunshine, the fresh air and remembered the wonderful lifestyle we had.

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Yes, it was a mindfully blissful morning. Just what the psychologist ordered 😉

***Linking with Kylie for One Perfect Moment***

Until next time,

Cheers!!!


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You know the signs

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You know the signs.

You want to sleep in that little bit longer. Or just not wake up to face the day at all. You want to stop doing things you know will make you feel better. Like exercising. You push yourself on some mornings because you know it is good for you. But it doesn’t feel the same. It doesn’t give you the pleasure  like it used to.

You know the signs.

You are constantly tired. Even after all the sleep-ins. You look like death, with dark circles under your eyes. You are unmotivated. You could just sit in front of the telly and stare into space. Writing, blogging, telling stories, reading — they all take a backseat. You don’t feel like going to work. Or meeting people. You’d rather curl up in bed dead to the world.

You know the signs.

You cry easily. The thoughts — the oh-so-negative thoughts — they seem to outweigh the rational and positive ones. They have also overpowered the usual worries. It has become exhausting to worry. The negativity is draining and it’s the reason you are teary.

You know the signs.

You just want to eat. Junk food, salty food, cheese and chocolate. You don’t crave anything healthy. It’s only the stuff that’s bad for you. That will later make you feel guilty. Because you don’t feel enough guilt already.

You know the signs.

You start to doubt yourself and all your abilities. You second guess every word you utter. Or every opinion you had. You doubt whether you are worthwhile as a person. You start to believe that not many people love you or care about you. That you are all alone.

You know the signs.

You don’t feel like going to work. Or meeting people. You’d rather curl up in bed or just stay indoors shutting out the world. You start to tell stories but you can’t concentrate. It’s easier to get sucked in by the negativity.

You know the signs.

Which is why you drag yourself out of bed and exercise anyway. You plaster a smile for the world to see even though your heart is heavy. You cover the dark circles with concealer and make up looking more radiant than you could ever feel. You distract yourself from your demons by pushing yourself to work. You listen to upbeat songs in the car. You sing out loud and out of tune. You laugh with your workmates and make an effort to socialise. You don’t listen to those voices of self-loathing. It’s easy to forget.

Until you are by yourself. Then you slip off that mask and let the tears gently roll.

Image source: Pixabay


Until next time,


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