Where I write

Where I write is not where I type. I am often constructing a story or blog post in my head, and then the next morning I type it up.
This post, Better Jobs was written in the carpark of the hospital, and then on the drive home.
This very sad (but one of my favourites) story was written on the walk to preschool, when I saw a photo stuck to a telegraph pole.
The tale of the crab was written as I walked down the street.

More often than not, I lie in bed writing in my head - dictating what I will type the next morning, should I remember.

I constantly have characters coming into my ear, pleading for me to share their tale of woe, like a lesser Pirandello. They keep coming back if I ignore them, or decide it's too hard or beyond my ability. They also come back if they aren't happy with my effort. I don't need editors to tell it's no good. The character starts nagging me because I 'got it wrong'.

I have ideas I want to expand on or share, but usually only a fraction are still there when I sit down to type. Sometimes I start composing posts because I don't know what my opinion is on a subject, and if I put it into words, it clarifies what I think.

It makes me sad that there is never enough time to put it all down in words.

"The art of writing is the art of discovering what you believe." Gustave Flaubert

Linking with 

Better Jobs

I was waiting for a family member to come out of recovery and up to the ward last night. I listened for over ninety minutes to the chirpy hospital staff discussing & dealing with some serious patient issues. Given they were on the night shift, they seemed overly enthusiastic to my tired ears. I thought about what remarkable people they must be, dealing with such horrible and stressful things, giving up their nights to help strangers (and thus their days too).

I finally left and walked to my car, just as a shift change was going on in one of the other buildings. A number of young people in hospital attire were making their way to their cars. Young people who had chosen this life of service to others.

That's when it hit me how truly awful our Treasurer's comments were, that people should get a better job if they wanted to buy a house. It's not only impractical, it's insulting.

It concerns me that the person with the fiscal plan for our nation is thinking we should call a stock broker or merchant banker if we're hit by a truck. Is that the plan? If everyone gets better paying jobs, then who's left to do the essential services? What kind of alarming economic policy is that?

However, maybe he means to increase the wages for all the teachers, police, nurses, paramedics, firefighters and other essential services that we as a nation need daily. I don't mean by the miniscule 5% that they have to fight tooth and nail to get every few years. I mean jack their income right up, well into six figures so that they don't need to quit and become barristers.

Who would pay for this, you ask? Well, I guess all those industries that rake in huge profits and in topsy-turvy land somehow managed to be tax exempt. Of course, that's just my uninformed guess, I'm sure the Treasurer had something in mind when he came out with that line about getting a better job if you wanted to buy a house.

So Mr Hockey, what is the plan?

Linking up #OpenSlather

Please note, as always, you don't have to agree with me, but you do have to play nice. I will delete any comments that are rude or disrespectful to me, other commenters, the Liberal Party or Mr Hockey.

Happiness is nothing more than good health and a bad memory.

For those that aren't familiar with it, the title is a quote by Albert Schweitzer. Memory is not a static thing. Memory can be lost, and found and alters over time. I read recently, that when we remember something, we are actually remembering the last time we remembered it, not the event itself, which is why some memories fade and some stay strong, and they often vary over time.

In We are all completely beside ourselves by Karen Joy Fowler, she talks about a lot about the nature of memory (and it's changing facets). She says "This doesn't mean that the story isn't true, only that I honestly don't know anymore if I really remember it or only remember how to tell it."

She expands on this idea "Language does this to our memories - simplifies, solidifies, codifies, mummifies. An oft-told story is like a photograph in a family album; eventually, it replaces the moment it was meant to capture."

My husband was telling a story from his childhood and his sister asked "Was I there?" (she wasn't) and then pondered "Why do I remember it so clearly then?" It was purely because she'd heard the story so often that her mind had injected her into the picture.

The fluidity of memory is how that terrible trip turns into a fond memory as the repeated telling of the tale for the amusement of others begins to inject the humour of the story on the feelings associated with the event.

Time and memory are true artists; they remould reality nearer to the heart's desire. (John Dewey) and this may be a blessing or a curse.

Have you ever had someone tell your story as their own? Do you find the nature of memory fascinating?

Linking up with #BooknificentThursdays

What we hate about facebook...

As soon as the topic of Facebook comes up, someone will pipe up with posts they hate. For some reason, things our friends like to post drive us mad. In no particular order, posts we hate on FB are:

1. Photos of kids. We hate people that constantly post photos of their kids and show off about their achievements. (How many times to we have to say they're cute?)

2. Photos of food. What are we even meant to say to that?

3. People who post about their exercise. It's no accident the article titled 'I got a fitbit and became a bore overnight' went viral.

4. Travel photos. Stop showing off.

5.  Selfies. How insecure are you, and why do I have to keep telling you that you look good?

Now all of the above, people hate. Yet, without a doubt, everyone one of us constantly posts at least one of these, if not more. So here's what we love to post on FB:

1. Photos of kids. We're so proud of them, and they're so cute.

2. Photos of food. We can't believe it turned out so well.

3. People who post about their exercise. It's a great way to get motivated and we're so proud of what we can do.

4. Travel photos. Is there anything more amazing than the big wide world, and how do you know where you want to travel to if you don't see where people go?

5.  Selfies. Scenery shots are boring, and I'm actually there.

What are your pet hates on FB, and what are you guilty of?


Linking with #MummyMondays

Late to the party

I've been a little down lately, overwhelmed with life's little problems that seem to come thick and fast as you age...but then I stumbled across this band out of France and I can't tell you how quickly my mood lifts when I listen to this song from way back in 2012.



I defy you to not be elevated out of your Monday Mourning (I love that term), simply with a listen. You never feel happy, until you try....

There's a meme going around facebook that states "Music can cure things medication can't". While I don't agree with it completely, it certainly is one of the things that makes life so incredibly wonderful. Even Nietzsche thought along these lines, declaring “Without music, life would be a mistake.”  

I will not be joining in with the most annoying thing your partner did prompt of  #IMustConfess as I don't want to tempt hearing the long list of my equally annoying quirks!

(you can buy it on iTunes - C2C on the album Tetra)

Churches #Haunted2015

Kind of cheating, as they're creepy at the best of times but couldn't resist with these beautiful stone buildings. We were at a party in a church hall, and the birthday boy stood at the gates of the cremated grave plaques (I don't know what you call that) and shouted "I'm looking at death! I'm looking right at death!" It was very surreal, and hilarious.





Anyway, the bigger the photo, the creepier I think they are (the smaller ones didn't work quite as I expected). And the second  last one, I just like as it's the presence of God washing over the building (no filter, just what it was). The last one is my favourite, but I could be reading too many books about WWII and that may be clouding my vision.

 This one isn't creepy, just thought it was pretty.

Linking up with#FavouriteFotos

What I learnt from Woman in Gold

No spoilers, Helen Mirren is fabulous, truly excellent and Daniel Bruhl is totally wasted, with his nothing character...

One thing that came up, is that 'people forget, especially the young'. Even those children of the victims know little or think little of it all. This can be a bad thing, but it can also be a good thing. When looking for happiness or contentment, one doesn't need to be caught up in the past. It is, however, important to learn from the past. Don't pretend it didn't happen, and just don't let it happen again.



 Image Source:Wikimedia Commons, Attribution: Gage Skidmore

The meaning of restitution comes up, and it's not about money, it means to return something to it's original state. This is easier said than done, and we can't ever really go back and make things the way they were, because the damage is done inside us whether the framework seems to have returned to normal. It's a fine line we tread each day with careless actions.

In the thick of the Nazi occupation, one captured Jew says to his fleeing daughter 'your job is to learn to be happy again'. The fact is, nothing is so insurmountable that we can't learn to be happy again. We don't forget it, we can't change the past and restore it to how it was, but we can learn to be happy again. It requires us to change, us to manage our thoughts and feelings, and how we view things. The character lost all her friends and family, saw horrible, unimaginable things, and her whole world fall apart, and yet manages to put her life together and be content with her lot, for many, many years.

I guess what I learnt, was that while your world may have seismic shifts - divorce, death, serious health issues, your dire feelings will eventually change. It may take a few years, but you will eventually come out of the tunnel and be happy again. There is the loss, there can never be restitution on that, but there is a new way of life awaiting. We can learn to be happy again.

What I learnt most of all, is sometimes I'm struck deeply by ideas but when it comes to expressing them in writing, I fail. I've looked at this post a few times since I wrote it, and it's not what I want to say, but I don't know how to correct it. So this #MummyMondays you are dumped with an unsatisfactory post, and for that I'm sorry (but I need to put it to rest, so here it is).