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For the avoidance of doubt... Yes... I definitely have an opinion... |
 Welcome to my Blog!! Having an opinion is better than not having a thought of your own. I have many of both.... Pull up a pew and grab a hot, steaming mug of your choice. |
| Prompt: Begin your entry today with: The Heart Won't Lie. *** “The heart won’t lie”…. is a romantic idea. It made a good song (if it you like Reba McEntire – I’m not a huge fan of country music), but time and time again it does in fact lie, or doesn’t tell us the whole truth – at least in the metaphorical sense. The heart often overrides the mind, even when we know logic should prevail. I’d actually say the heart, on times, is an idiot!! At least mine is… The amount of times I stayed in toxic, damaging relationships (not just romantic) because “my heart” kept telling me it would be ok, that this was just part of the course, is not funny. My heart would have me sit there and bare all the pain. Bleeding all over my psyche. I sometimes wonder if I was masochistic in my youth purely because I seemed incapable of walking away when I knew I should. I had lengthy conversations with friends (and myself) about ending relationships and then… nope, I'd jump right back into the loop. Or maybe I’m being unfair to my heart, because it didn’t really know what love was. It was young and naïve. It learnt what love was not time and time again – we have the scars to prove it. Sometimes I picture it pasted back together like a piece of kintsugi pottery – shattered, but mended and beautiful in its fragility. It often put others before itself – like it hadn’t quite figured out the concept of self-love and acceptance. It took a long time to grow up and realise what love should be. What is could be. Maybe it's a lesson it had to learn... I still have it on a leash. It's the unstable part of my personality that has slight kamikaze tendencies. Though it has learnt not to be quite so much of a muppet. Thank goodness my logic centre is stubborn and doesn’t like to be ignored. It eventually gets fed up and tells my heart to get back in its box so it can take over. However, the physical sense might be different. Can the heart lie? Or would it give our immediate/primitive feelings away? Can we actually control it enough to change it? When we are scared, or worried, or excited it beats faster and erratically… It’s hard to slow it down. It’s hard not to feed into the panic and control the rest of our body’s response to it. We blush when we are embarrassed. Sweat when we are nervous. Each time it’s our heart pumping the blood around our bodies. Yes, there are those that can influence the way it reacts - freedivers can slow their heart rate, special forces are trained to withstand interrogation and lie detection (though this may come from reading waaay too many Jack Reach-esk novels) but is that the heart lying or is it the mind taking over and forcing control. Either way, I can't do it. So, I get in that sense my heart doesn't lie... not because it won't... because it can't. |
| Prompt: Beyond The Gates. Use this as your opening line for your Blog entry today. It spiralled from a micro fiction to a short story.... “Beyond the gates lies the outside world. It’s dangerous! You must promise me that you’ll stay in the safety of the garden. Do not wander off!” Those were the last words my mother ever said to me. I often wonder if she tempted fate that day. If fate actually exists that is; the series of unusual events that led me to this desolate part of the forbidden forest, to stand before this peculiar looking tree, makes me think it does. That, or the world is even stranger than my mother's warning. That day the suns had been high in the sky. Second noon had already passed and the parched earth that wound pathways through the garden scorched the soles my feet. I danced my way to the shade of the large muddleberry tree that grew in the corner next to the pealing white picket fence and then climbed up into the branches that leaned over the boundary of my home. This was not cheating. My feet had not touched the ground beyond the gates. I reached for the purple berries that hung heavy amongst the leaves. They were my favourite. This early in the season they still had a tart, sour taste them. They would be sweeter in a few weeks. Perfect for when Mother and I made the first batch of jams to sell at market. But even now they were hard to resist. As I stretched to reach the berries I heard a loud crunch. The branch bearing my weight juddered and dropped as a crack formed along its length and it began to break away from the trunk. I was too far along it to go back, and the branches below were too spindly to take my weight. I closed my eyes and braced for impact. The branch cracked again, and gravity pulled me downwards. I landed on the ground in a heap of limbs, but nothing was broken. Bruised. Scraped. Slightly bloody. But not broken. I should have gone back. I should have turned and rush towards the gates, but I was already on the other side. I would be grounded for the foreseeable future regardless of how long I stayed beyond the perimeter. With the suns still beating down on my neck and the absence of any sensible supplies I started off down the hill toward the tree line on my first adventure. The air was cooler in the forest. It made the ground damp to the touch. My toes wriggled in the mud. Everywhere I looked there were vibrant colours that pulled me deeper into the forest’s embrace. Flowers with large velvety petals and long tongue-like pistils, and tall peduncles with puff of white along their stalks that resembled clouds or cottonwool. I had never seen plants like this. They weren’t like the ones in the garden. As the temperature fell further, and the light began to fade between the canopy I realised how far I had travelled. There was no sign of the meadow. I could no longer hear the soft rushing of water from the stream that neighboured it. The trees here were tall and straight. Their bark was dark and coated in tiny, mirrored shards that overlayed each other like a snake’s scales. They were impossible to climb. I studied the trail of footprints that meandered in different directions. My footprints. Thousands of them. They circled in on themselves, crisscrossing at multiple intersections. I must have walked for longer than I realised. I was lost and night was setting in. I sat at the base of a tree and pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms tight around me to retain some heat. I closed my eyes. When dawn broke, I picked a path and set off at a steady pace. If I kept going in a single direction, I would eventually leave the forest and be able to find my bearings. Dirt and debris clung to the frayed hem of my dress. My feet and ankles were caked in dried mud that cracked as I moved. I had a lot of explaining to do. Mother would be furious. I reached the edge of the treeline just as first noon was breaking. The heat of the day was steadily climbing, and sweat was trickling across my brow, making my hair stick to my face. On the horizon I saw our small, family cottage. It lay eerily silent. The chimney stack void of smoke. My mother had usually set a pot on the open flames by now to prepare for our evening meal. A shiver rippled down my spine. I crossed the field and climbed the hill, swinging the gates wide open with a rusted squeak that grated against my ears. The garden was overgrown. The bushes unkempt. I entered the cottage and surveyed the bare stone floor. No furniture. No Coverings. No mother. Empty. The thick dust and established cobwebs denoted a cottage that had been long abandoned. In the space of a night the world had changed, and I was alone. The forest was forbidden for a reason, even time stayed away. |
| Prompt: China Hutch, Roses, Rain, Pearls, and Crystal. Use these words in your Blog entry today. Story time: My grandmother’s china hutch stood on the back wall and housed her best bone china dinner set. The one that only came out on special occasions. It was still as imposing as I remembered, though not as tall. It had been passed down through the generations and was finally mine. Although, I would swap it for one more conversation with the family matriarch in a heartbeat. I ran my hand across the buffet’s marble surface. It had seen better days and needed some care, but the wooden inlays remained intact – the carved roses clearly defined – nothing some bees wax and a good buff could not fix. The rain had started an hour ago, followed by the hail, which was now ricocheting off the patio, through the open sash window, littering the dinning room floor like a carpet of white pearls. “Water will warp the wood!” I heard my grandmother say in my mind. It brought a smile to my face to remember how much she loved this wooden monstrosity. I placed the packing boxes on the floor and started to pack the contents of the hutch; carefully wrapping each lead crystal champagne flute individually with sheets of tissue paper so they would survive the trip. The packers would be here shortly to move the last of the furniture into storage, but the hutch and its contents was coming home with me. Another generation taking care of it. Just like my grandmother had wanted. |
| Prompt: Do you know people who are terrible at doing just about anything, but they are convinced they're extremely talented? What are they like and would you tell them the truth about themselves? *** Honestly, no. I don’t know anyone that is terrible at everything. Everyone is good at something. Everyone has a skill set. Most of my friends and family know what their strengths and weaknesses are. It's a very eclectic blend of talents. But that shouldn’t discourage them from doing something the like/love or stop me from supporting them in that venture. I can also be open with my friends and family, because they know I would never say or do anything to purposefully harm or hurt them. And I can be tactful when needed (unless it’s my husband - then I’m sledgehammer). I know how to deliver tough/unpleasant conversations in a noninflammatory way. But unless I thought they were doing something detrimental to their health (physical/mental/emotional) or wellbeing (including financial) I wouldn’t intervene. I know people who like to sing and can’t hold a tune to save their lives… but why should that stop them. Yes, they will probably never sign a record contract, but that’s not what they want anyway. I know people who are a liability when it comes to DIY and we support them by “helping” or coaxing them to seek help for those hard jobs – I also fall into both these categories 😃 There are not many people who will be successful as a football player – but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t enjoy a kick-around at the local park, or playing with the local club. I see this with my daughter a lot at the moment. She is nine years old. Still learning everything and yet she is constantly comparing herself with her friends or her brother – and depending on the topic she is either really pleased with herself or really sad – pre-teens are extreme!! We frequently discuss that everyone learns at different rates and that some people will be better than her at somethings, but conversely, she will be great at other things they find more difficult. She is incredibly bendy – she is double jointed and very flexibly – there are times I think she looks broken. She is also slight and petite. A lot of her friend's envy this about her. However, she struggles with reading because she has (we think) dyslexia, while some of her friends are reading two or three years above her. But they are all good at something. And as parents we are constantly reiterating that she (and my son) doesn’t have to be perfect at something to enjoy it. It’s ok just to have fun. We have explained the financial aspect of their activities so they have an understanding of their commitment when they sign up to something, and also why they can’t just do everything. They choose what their two activities will be. |
| Prompt: Summer - what do you think about the summer season, and/or how would you personify summer in a story or poem? Summer is…. days at the beach or relaxing by the pool, sun-kissed skin and coconut smelling sunscreen, no school and hanging with my friends, and eating ice cream until my brain freezes. I think of my younger years when I was innocent, carefree, with less responsibilities - when I felt I could take on the world. That is who summer is to me – young, free, full of warmth and energy, and not tainted by the storms of Autumn (which FYI I love also). *** I have lived in two hemispheres. The Northern Hemisphere from birth until I was around 38ish... and the last 5 in Australia. For those who live under a rock – or have never considered it – the seasons are flipped. This means that summer is not summer, or at least not when my brain thinks summer should be. It completely screws with my mind… I associated Christmas with the cold. Wrapping up warm, with a hot chocolate and roasted chestnuts… not flip-flops (I refuse to use the other word), “boardie”, and a Christmas Day trip to the beach. It is just not right!!! Where is the snowman competition, the hibernation, the Christmas jumpers…. No where to be seen, that is where!!!! And let us not discuss Christmas dinner – because cooking a full Christmas roast with all the trimmings when it is hot enough to cook an egg on the driveway is not fun, but equally having a salad is just not ok!!! I have contemplated getting a snow machine (or several) such to satisfy my inner Elsa needs. At the moment I just hang wooden snowflakes everywhere and crank up the A/C. Another issue is Halloween, which should be spooky – but this is hard to do when it does not get dark until 21:00. Although I can do summerween – so it is not all bad. It is just funny having a BBQ at the Halloween party in 30 degrees (C not F) and your face paint melting off. The mental switch takes a lot of getting used to. I do not think I am there yet – not sure I ever will be. |
| Prompt: Laughter. "There's great value in being able to step back and laugh at yourself, at life, and at attitudes. Laughter helps you put everything into perspective." Jim Henson *** In the UK we have a saying "Today's news is tomorrow's fish and chip wrapper." It harks back to the days when we wanted our fish and chips coated in ink as well as salt and vinegar (I'm joking the newspaper was the outside wrapper, not the internal one). The premise is that the things that seem important to us today won't be tomorrow, or at least in the future. I suppose it is the equivalent to today's "This too shall pass". That bad day you're having - it will pass - there will be a better one. The argument with your spouse - it will pass - you'll probably have many more (you might even win one!). Even the grief we feel - in time even that will lessen and pass. As a whole, the human race takes itself far too seriously. I mean honestly, the more you look at us as a species, the more you realise how utterly ridiculous we are. And yet, many of us are incapable of finding the funny side in most situations - especially the ones where we are front and centre - with the spotlight homed in on us. People who laugh at themselves are happier people. That might seem obvious... We all make mistakes. We all embarrass ourselves at some point. I make a fool of myself on a daily basis if I haven't had my tea to wake my brain up. We can't be perfect all the time because perfect really doesn't exist. It's a stupid human construct that serves no purpose other than to make us feel bad about our lives and ourselves. It's a horrible feeling to believe/have people laugh AT us. Yet it's also a rite of passage. A lesson that needs to be learnt, because it will happen regardless. If we laugh at our follies, people usually laugh with us (which feels completely different). And if it is at us, their gaze will move on quickly enough. While something may feel super important at the time it's happening, it rarely makes CliffsNotes in our lives. At most, we may reminisce over it with our friends and family while sipping a beer, glass of wine, or large fruit cocktails with one of those little umbrellas. "Remember when you..." Time allows us to laugh at ourselves, because time allows us to have perspective. It forces us to have perspective. We move on, our lives change, our priorities shift. The sooner we are able to laugh at a situation, the quicker we can move on... to the next embarrassing situation, because you know it's coming. I have also realised (sadly only once I entered my 30s and stopped caring about the opinions of others so much) that if I accept that I might make a fool out of myself and laugh at it, I actually end up having so much fun. And I often get to try something new too. The fear of being laughed at often stops us trying stuff out - which is a shame. |
| Prompt: Have fun with these nine words: junket, exhibition, care, introduce, sketch, door. flock, wreck and discrimination. A press junket can be viewed as an exhibition of the very worst of humanity. Where people flock with little care for actual journalism and instead squawk repetitive and mundane questions at a speaker(s) in an often-rehearsed fashion. It’s a poor man’s comedy sketch. A parody of reality. The live-action wreck of society’s demise in slow-motion. It does little to introduce us (the public) with the facts – the door is firmly closed in that regard – the public discrimination of the truth, videoed for posterity!  |
| Prompt: Writer Francois-Marie Arouet, who was better known as Voltaire was imprisoned on May 16th in 1717 for his outspoken opinions. "Doubt is an uncomfortable condition, but certainty is a ridiculous one." There are very few things in this world we can be certain about and many people confuse Fact with Opinion and Belief – which is very ridiculous. To doubt is a very strong human trait. It is what has kept us alive. We would not have evolved, or continue to evolve as a species without it. Doubting something makes us curious, make us cautious, makes us question our surroundings and what we know of the world. And often our internal self / subconscious tells us when we should be doubting something – it’s that sixth sense, that prickle up your neck to say something isn’t quite right. Even our scientific discoveries carry with them an element of doubt in order to perfect or ensure safety. Very few things should ever be taken at face value. "Every man is guilty of all the good he did not do." Evil prevails when good men do nothing – very strong and powerful words, which are absolutely true. We let society, our communities, and ourselves down when we do not stand up to be counted, when we do not hold other accountable for their actions, when we say – “It’s nothing to do with me” or “It’s not my problem”. Because there is a good chance than someday it will be. It will be our problem or our kids and grandkids problems. Simon and Garfunkel wrote a song about it – the Sound of Silence – which was superbly covered by Disturbed. "Judge a man by his questions rather than by his answers." Questions very often tell us more about a person that the statements they make. I am often left underwhelmed whenever I listen to anyone in leadership – company or government - speaks. The majority of the time it is rehearsed, scripted responses, which do not feel genuine. I often play buzz word bingo – how many one liners can I spot in the speech. Are we “pivoting” and “thinking outside the box”? Are we “kicking the tires?” …. Bleh… It’s cliché and makes my eyes roll. I much prefer the questions and answers sessions, because they are honest. Because you can tell if someone is truly passionate and knows what they are talking about. It’s harder to lie on the fly. Easier to be caught out. And people who ask questions rather than just talk at you are really asking to hear your thoughts, and opinions. It’s what I also keep my eye out for in interviews – who has done the research. "Optimism is the madness of insisting that all is well when we are miserable" Eternal optimism is madness – but it can also be hope. Especially when we are miserable. It can be the white lie we tell ourselves to keep going. To not give up. |
| Prompt: "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." Plato *** There is very little point in being mean to someone – ever. It does nothing other than potentially upset or hurt that person or make their day worse. It rarely makes you feel better. And if it does, it is usually only a temporary gratification – it never lasts. It says more about you than them. We are not the central character in everyone's story, only our own. We do not know what someone is dealing with. Even when our friends and family confide in us there will be things we don’t know, fully appreciate, or understand. My husband occasionally gets frustrated when I refuse to take the bin out at night. Or go to the shops. Generally, when the sun goes down, I am not leaving my house. I get anxiety about it. Heart palpitations. I’m running through the very elaborate plan in my head to get to the bins, to the curb, and back to the house safely - in one piece. My overactive imagination in is overdrive with what could be lurking in the dark – and how to defend myself. There are scenarios… many scenarios… My husband knows why. He’s fully aware of my history. We’ve talked about it many times because it impacts many different areas of my life. But even still, there are times when he doesn’t fully grasp it, or it’s not at the front of his mind (it’s like he forgets until he is reminded). He knows why but doesn’t feel it – and honestly why would he. But even on a base level, we don’t know what is happening in someone’s life. We don’t know if that mother who looks dishevelled dropping the kids off at the school gate has been up all night with a sick child. And even if she wasn’t how does it affect us in any way. The colleague who isn’t pulling their weight on a project or doesn’t seem as switched on as usual – maybe their parent is ill or they had a disagreement with their spouse, or the gas bill has come in and they are wondering how the hell they are going to make it to pay day – you know the everyday trials and tribulations adults go through at some point. Maybe the person who was a little short/rude to you – is still grieving or is having a tougher day than normal. And even if they are just being an arsehole – you being one back isn’t going to make the situation better – it is more likely to make things worse. I’m not saying we should be kind at any cost. We need to have boundaries to protect ourselves and others. There are times that being kind can and has put individuals in danger. There is a difference in being kind and being someone’s metaphorical punching bag, just like there is a difference between being rude and just being the bigger person and walking away. There are situations where just “not being rude” is the right answer. We are entitled to ask if that colleague is okay to support the project still, or if they need help with it, or an extension? It is okay to walk away from a situation instead of blindly offering help. Because these things have an impact on us and other people. We are not entitled to know the details of why they are struggling. But we also can’t offer assistance unless we know it is needed or wanted. And most people struggle to ask for help. It’s a balance. In general, being kind costs very little. It does no real harm. Treating people with compassion should be normal behaviour, and yet it seems to be a trait we are losing at a staggering pace, particularly when people do not fit into the predefined pigeon-holes society seems obsessed with creating. So, I agree with Plato in that “everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle”, but I also believe that sometimes it is better to walk away than to try and be kind. |
| Prompt: All the world is made of faith, trust and Pixie dust. **** I’m not sure if the world is made of faith, trust and Pixie dust, but I think humanity is built on it. Most people believe or have faith in something - we just don’t all agree on what (which seems to be an issue for some people). I think faith goes further than just religion – which I am not a huge fan of. I think the world turns on our faith (and trust) in each other. All of our connections are driven by our faith and trust in the people in our lives. It’s incredibly fragile and delicate, but also surprisingly resilient – like a spider’s web. We spend our lives creating a network of people around us, which constantly needs to be nurtured, fixed, or rebuild depending on the ebb and flow of life – it’s our own, personal world. Evolving and changing – like us. We are like busy little spiders, constantly spinning – no wonder I am tired all the time. What we create can be beautiful if we catch it in the right light and take the time to appreciate it – usually in those quiet moments, just after dawn, after the dark and the cold. We see the friendships and relationships glistening like diamonds – a reminder of how important they are to us - or should be. There are moments in my life I know I wouldn’t have survived if it had not been for those relationships. When I was at my lowest, I put my faith and trust in them, without truly realising I was doing so, or how vulnerable I was. I was able to lean on them. They gave me their strength when I had none of my own – willingly, gladly, without question – if that isn’t pixie dust, I don’t know what is. It’s those moments that reaffirm my faith in humanity. The world needs its pixie dust. |
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