Tuesday, 14 March 2017

Life has shredded my word count

Hi. *takes deep breath* This post is the most writing I have done in two weeks. This is very unusual for me. 

The reason? Stuff has happened. Namely, university. (And it's great so far, by the way. Just in case you were wondering. I haven't gotten severely lost yet, which is wonderful. I might do a post next week about my experiences so far, so hang in there with the questions.) 

FYI not a tattoo, just plain old ink.

I'm beginning to remember how life can happen. And when life happens, my word count disappears into a little hole in the ground, pulls a pillow over its head and wails like a small child who's recently dropped the cone of their favourite ice cream (chocolate, by the way). (It also has a little tantrum like Anakin Skywalker when people tell him what to do. (Pick your favourite simile and go with it.))

Have you ever heard the phrase "writers write"? The point is that you are a writer if you write. The end. You don't need a fancy badge or degree or published book to be a writer, which I absolutely love. 

But can I be a writer if I'm not writing right now? 

My mind is filled with to-do lists and math, of pre-reading checklists and timetables. I'm not thinking about my writing. I'm not thinking about my blog, about reading. I have other things to think about right now, but that doesn't mean I'm giving up with my dream of being an author. 

I'm still a writer. I'm just not writing today. I probably won't write tomorrow. And my identity as a writer is going to change as I transition through life, but just because I'm going through a busy time in life doesn't mean that I can just drop part of my identity. 

Does life ever eat your word count? Have you had to give up something you love when life gets busy? 

Tuesday, 7 March 2017

The Perfect Afternoon (gap year wrap-up)

As of the day I'm writing this (Sunday afternoon), this is my last day of freedom. Um, gap year. (Same thing.)

This year has been... incredible. Amazing. There have been a few bumps along the way, of course, as always, and some stuff has happened that I would have never imagined happening twelve months ago. But here we are. I've gone to Orientation for uni, I've bought my brand-new beautiful laptop, I have all my notebooks and pens and textbooks and a very expensive calculator, and I have all my pre-reading for Monday's classes done. First up? Fundamentals of Engineering. (I've decided to rename it Ninja Fundamentals, though. (Statics is Time's not Static (it's wibbly wobbly, timey wimey) and Applied Mathematics is Balance of Probability, my dear Watson, because I'm weird like that.) 

I'm scared out of my mind. (But that's ok. That's how we grow.) 

I cannot express how thankful I am to have had this year. I've grown so much as a writer and as a person, and none of it would have been possible without the amazing support of my family, friends, and of course God. (Let's give credit where credit is due.) I have had the most amazing time this year, and I couldn't have done it without a couple of amazing people. 

There have been a few specific afternoons that have been absolutely perfect this year, and that's how I want to remember it. I want to remember my curtains swaying in the breeze, my skin stained with ink as I fill pages of my journal. I want to remember dancing around the house with my music blasted, spending hours curled up in bed with a really good book, drinking too much tea for my own good. I loved the silence in the house when it's only me and my thoughts, the weight of everything I can't control off my chest for a few short hours, learning how to draw, learning how to write, learning how to speak French, learning about what it means to be me. Those are the afternoons I want to remember. They were the hours when my soul could finally breathe, and I am so thankful to have had them. 

And to everyone considering taking a gap year, let me assure you that I'm completely at rest with my decision. I have no regrets, no second thoughts. It's not right for everyone, of course. Think about your options, your reasons behind it, what you're going to do. Then take a deep breathe, plunge into whatever your decision is and don't look back. 

Did you take a gap year, or go straight to college/university? What's your perfect afternoon? 

Tuesday, 28 February 2017

Life's Like That (that time we almost got tackled in airport security)

Life being the way life is, my dad, brother and I were heading back from Canada a few months ago without my wonderful mom and sister. We had been traversing up and down British Columbia and Alberta in Gertie, talking to so many people, getting less than the recommended amount of sleep a night and had just gotten off a thirteen hour plane trip. (It was a great trip, of course, but in case you didn't get the point we were pretty tired at this point.)

The sis et moi.

We've been a fan of this TV show called Brooklyn Nine-Nine and we were able to watch the Christmas special during the plane ride. My brother and I had a good giggle over it on the plane, but Dad was sleeping so he was left out of the conversation. 

In the episode, a police officer wants to give the captain a Christmas present but he continually refuses. She decides the best way to get the captain to open her present is to wrap it in an unmarked box, disguise her handwriting and leave an unsigned note reading "Open me now". As this is a police captain, he immediately yells "Bomb!" and puts the precinct under lockdown. We all got a good giggle out of that. 

So we landed in the Brisbane airport and were standing in line for security. Security being boring, we were all catching up on the movies and TV shows we watched on the plane and Brooklyn Nine-Nine came up. We hadn't discussed it with Dad yet, so we were all re-living our favourite parts. 

Dad's eyes went wide, he grinned and yelled "B-"... then realised we were in security. 

He almost quoted the captian yelling "Bomb!"

In airport security. 

Tuesday, 21 February 2017

Movie Review: Hidden Figures

I have been very excited about seeing this movie for a long time. As someone who is a) a female, b) starting engineering school in a few weeks (although c) not African-American), d) a huge fan of the time period and e) also a huge fan of civil rights movies, I could not wait. 


During the Space Race, three brilliant African-American women (Katherine G. Johnson, Dorothy Vaughan and Mary Jackson) worked at NASA to launch the first American into orbit. I was actually having a pretty bad day when we went to see it, and I came out so happy that I was literally bouncing around the movie theatre. Basically it's got science and math and amazing role models and everything you could ever need in a movie. Go see it. Immediately. 

The characters were perfect, the costumes and sets beautiful, the score incredible, the story flawless. I was cheering and cringing and laughing, and if we weren't in public I would have given it a standing ovation. The film showed *gasps* black women having fun, falling in love, being human. It was beautiful. It taught me something. It gave me hope. 

Sorry for the short review, but when I have nothing to criticise my reviews tend to be shorter. Have you seen Hidden Figures? Would you like to see it? (Now excuse me, but there's a book that I'm off to get my hands on...)

Wednesday, 15 February 2017

Driving Misadventures (part 4) (in which we get stranded in the middle of nowhere)

So a couple of weeks ago my friend Sarah, my sister M and I decided to go to the ice rink that was in town for a couple of weeks. It had been forever since M and I had been skating, and what better way could you spend the afternoon than in ice skates? 

We showed up to the rink and to our horror, the door was locked. We banged on it for a little, double-checked the website then wandered around for a little to no avail. No one was there. Just as we were about to leave, a truck pulled up and a guy stuck his head out the window. 

"You girls here for the skating?" We nodded, probably looking pretty confused. "Can you come back at three o'clock? More people usually show up then." I checked my phone. It was ten o'clock, and it was a forty-five minute drive back to the house. Hmmm, not likely then. 

We bought smoothies and tried to decide what to do, and eventually driving to the top of a nearby mountain came up. Seeing how none of us had ever done it before and we suddenly had lots of time on our hands, Sarah plugged the route into iMaps and away we went in my old reliable car, without telling anyone where we were going. 

The drive there was absolutely beautiful, with gum trees dotting swaying fields of grass and the road stretching out in front of us like a pair of faded jeans. M blasted the music and we all sang along. 

Eventually, we hit a dirt road. My car could handle it without too much difficulty, so onwards we went, winding deeper and deeper into the Australian bush. The ever-present symphony of the Australian insects surrounded us, with patches of sky peeking through the canopy above. 

After a little while, we came across three men in a truck. They were loading leaves and branches into the back of their ute, and looked like complete bogans. Two of them were wearing the typical Australian tradie uniform, which was a thick yellow button-up jacket with reflective stripes across the chest. I had to do a double-take with the third one. He had a mullet. An honest to God mullet. Pair that with a muscle shirt, board shorts, a pair of flip flops and a cigarette and it didn't take long before I was locking the doors. After all, three young girls alone in the middle of nowhere with three bogan men? It was just a little scary. 

We passed them without too much difficulty and continued on our way, still laughing about the mullet guy. Eventually, a sign reading "Private Property" marked the end of the road. We glanced around, the mountain rising from the ground to our right. iMaps had obviously told us to take a wrong turn, and we had gone around the back of the mountain. 

We shut off the car and, laughing, took a few pictures to sum up this spectacular fail of a morning. First the skating, then the mountain climb. But hey, it was an adventure, right? Adventures always made for good stories. 

The truck with the three men rumbled over the road, and we squealed then hopped back in the car and locked it, stories our moms had told us of the girls who never made it back home running through our heads. They passed us without a word. Our photo session wasn't quite finished, so we shut the car back off and posed for a few more pictures. 

Once the mosquitos and the heat had become too much, I slid back into the driver's seat and turned the key. The engine sputtered then died. I blinked, then tried again. The car struggled, then was silent. We all stared at each other, the full reality of our situation suddenly clear. 

"We're all Christians, everyone start praying," said M as she pulled out her iPad to record our crisis. I frantically turned the key again and again to no avail. It had to be the battery. 

"Is there signal out here?" I whispered. 

"No!" Sarah laughed, which I found a bit inappropriate, considering our situation. Then again, I often decide to laugh instead of cry, so I could kinda of see where she was coming from. After all,between the three of us we had very little experience with mechanics and it would take us a good forty-five minutes to walk back to the main road, and another few hours to get back to civilisation. 

There was a roar as the ute with the three bogans rounded the corner. Completely terrified, we climbed out of the car and waved them down. 

"Could you help us? Our car... stopped starting." Sarah offered a weak laugh at her inability to string together a sentence. I wasn't going to judge as my own lips were sealed. 

Bogan #1 and Mullet Guy jumped out of their ute and started poking around under the hood of my car, and eventually declared that the battery had died. They had jumper cables back at the house, so they headed back in their truck and left Bogan #2 with us. What followed was the most awkward situation I've experienced in a long time. After all, what do you say to a stranger while you're stuck in the middle of nowhere with him? We made a few passing remarks about the strangeness of the situation, of the car, of the weather. The buzzing of the insects filled in the gaps. 

The men came back after a while and plugged the cables into the batteries, and before long the car was gasping for breath but was at least alive. We thanked them a million times and headed off, barely able to contain our laughter at our adventure. 

Has your car ever broken down in an inconvenient place? Has a dodgy person ever helped you out of a scrape? 

Tuesday, 7 February 2017

Reading non-fiction is weird (and also kinda wonderful)

So for a good many years of my life, I was sure that non-fiction was a crazy genre and no one should ever read it. As a kid I could never get through a whole non-fiction book, and I considered them to be for adults who spent their evenings discussing politics, the price of gas and the economy while they drank red wine with their colleagues. (Please excuse my ten-year-old self.) Fiction was much more appealing, with the dragons and wardrobes and adventures through time and space. 

In high school, my opinion of it didn't change much. Sure, I recognised that my view of non-fiction was just a little narrow-minded, but that didn't encourage me to start reading it. I spent enough time stuffing my brain with facts and figures as it was, and every time I went to read something that had a lack of magic I'd find myself trying to figure out how to in-text reference it and watching the page numbers so I could refer to it in my essay. (And obviously that was about as much fun as driving a mallet through a dolphin's brain.) I needed the escape that fiction provided, compared to feeling like I was still doing homework. 

This year, I haven't had much formal education beyond a few French classes. As a result, I've found myself more and more attracted to non-fiction and all the wonderful knowledge I can extract from it. I'm a student at heart (despite my issues with our education system, which is a whole other post) and I love to learn, love the never-ending game of knowing. I've learned so much this year about topics I love, whereas before I was so busy trying to get essays done to bother with hurting my poor brain with yet more knowledge. 

I've learned about bees and beekeeping, about China and Mongolia and genetically modified organisms and insects. I've learned about the conflict in the Middle East, about women's rights and feminism in both developing and developed countries, about surviving a plane crash in the Andes. And that's pretty cool. I don't know if I'll be able to continue with my self-education this year, but I'm looking forwards to the day when I'm no longer in school and once again feel the tug to pick up a non-fiction book. 

Do you read much non-fiction? Do you feel school has ever discouraged you from reading non-fiction in your free time? 

Tuesday, 31 January 2017

Let's go on an adventure

So I drag myself back from work and my sister (M) meets me in my room. "I just got a text from Sarah. She was wanting to know if you wanted to go on an adventure? She'll be here in like ten minutes." (By the way, that's the best way to ask me out on a date. Bonus points if you quote The Hobbit.

I managed to not get any pictures, so I thought I'd show you what I do at 3am (in case anyone was curious). 

I grab something to eat then try to decide which shoes to wear for an adventure. I end up with a pair of old flip flops (which is probably not the best kind of shoes for an adventure trekking across Middle Earth but shhh). Sarah shows up, M grabs her ukulele and we all pile into Sarah's car. 

I watch the buildings unfold in the window from my position in the backseat. My town is a quiet one, and at this time of night the cars are parked in their driveways and the streetlights sputter on like the lazy flick of a magic wand. 

Sarah parks at one of the lesser-known beaches, and we tumble out onto the still-warm pavement. She pulls a bubble wand out from her trunk. I am beside myself. I can't play the ukulele to save myself (or any instrument for that matter), and so I attempt to blow bubbles in the warm breeze that whips across the grey ocean and tangles my hair while M and Sarah teach each other songs and chords. The water swallows my toes and I drown in the sky, which washes over us in tones of amethyst and silver and smoke. 

We pause for a moment to watch the waves surge up the sand. "You know." Sarah pauses to strum her ukulele absently. "We drive past this everyday, and we can come here anytime. How cool is that?" I gaze out over the swelling ocean, and the depth and enormity of it makes me feel insignificant but somehow very special at the same time and I can't help but agree. (She continues by saying how instead we often stay home and watch TV, to which M says hey, watch it.)

When it gets too dark to see, we drive up to a lookout and find a bench to look out over the ocean. M and Sarah attempt to teach me four chords. It does not end well. Instead of continuing, I hand the instrument back and try to sing along as they figure out the chords to Someone Like You, Can't Help Falling in Love with You and What a Wonderful World. That's also difficult for me, because I don't know all the words and my singing sounds like a dead llama. But I have fun. We watch the moon rise, we point out the distant streetlights, and we let our weird, wonderful music float across the ocean to rest in this place I've fallen in love with. 

First day with my new schedule, thanks for understanding everyone. Have you ever fallen in love with somewhere? Are you musically talented?