Life is an Ocean

When I’m listening to music It can take me to a completely different place. It is like the artist molds both the lyrics and the melody to perfectly encapture a part of my mind and magnifies it to a place of complete clarity. I whimsically dream of having the ability to do that. To take another persons mind to a place greater than they are capable. It gets me thinking if that was the intention when they made it. If it was for the perception of the listener or for them to magnify their own thoughts. If the closeness that I feel with this artist is something that is purely constructed in my mind. A way for me to reach out to a complete stranger because the art that they produce sparks something in me. Then I get to wondering if music is the only way to reach this pure emotion, pure clarity. Whether the only way to connect with another is through the an experience that they are letting me listen in on, an experience that I can in some way relate to. I often think about how humans relate to each other. How each individual I have ever met has had an effect on the way that I am now. I kind of envision it as though we are floating along on some ocean like body of water too infinite for our minds to encapture. We are all separate but joined in the area that we are sharing. And each person that we ever meet effects the direction that we are floating. Some people only send ripples our way, slightly changing our courses in an insignificant manner. Others collide with us with such a strength that they alter our course, our ship, ourselves… forever. And these collisions; do they only alter our directions or do they leave something behind, a constant reminder of the individual that crashed into us. Perhaps music, art, is a way of transending these collisions by way of a current, a directive force that requires no direct contact but irrevocably alters us. Leaves us with a lasting impression from beneath the collisions of intimate human relations, transending what meeting someone can do and becoming part of the ocean that we are floating upon. Perhaps there are more mediums than music, than art, perhaps that is what the power of shared thoughts, political movements, religious beliefs hold. They explain the directions that individuals are moving in because they are the underlying current directing their floating nature. Perhaps this world is just an ocean governed by perceptions and currents which are more complex than any individual can control or comprehend.

history, friends and a group of flaming homosexuals

Sitting out on my balcony soaking up the sun I was stricken by a thought. Before explaining the thought I must first give you a description of my surroundings: I was lying on my beach towel which has the Australian flag printed on it, I was taking a break from reading and gazing in awe at the three large eagles that were soaring over head, and the book that I was reading is Confederates in the Attic, a novel surrounding deep exploration into the civil war and how it effects the South of today. My professors voice was ringing in my ears talking about how Horwitz (the author) was exploring that perhaps what brings us as a general people together is shared history. That a common past is the sole reason we have an individual culture.

Pondering this atop my Australian memorabilia I was propelled into the questions of where does my culture come from? What culture do I belong to? What the hell do I identify with? And before you zone out at yet another adolescent questioning who they are, where they come from, and where they want to be, I have an insight. A reason that perhaps my mismatched group of friends back home is still unified.

It is indeed our common history, albeit not dating as far back as a war fought in the 1860s, but it is our shared experiences that keep us from completely falling apart. I am a firm believer that our experiences are one of the driving forces in shaping who we become, and with the pushing of my professor I believe that this could be adopted in not just an individual sense but also for a group of people.

When people ask me what Australia is like I often draw a blank. All I can think of is my drama-filled group of flaming homosexuals that I have grown up with. And when questioned about what we do back home for fun all I can think of is drink. Surely there must be more to it than that? Alas my teacher has enlightened me (as they are surprisingly paid to do…shock horror) that whilst I fail to come up with a concrete example of life back home, it is the fact that I have lived it, and shared it with these people who I have grown to know as friends.

So perhaps he wasn’t suffering a brief moment of insanity when he put forth that people are united through history. And that indeed that history is interpreted differently by each individual, but it is still a common past that brings them together.

Just a thought… perhaps history could be important.

world war 3?

So I haven’t really posted a blog in quite a while. But I would like to take the time to set out the full, complete, and truthful reason as to why this is. I have been held hostage by a large number of steroid taking bees and bright red wasp’s who are staging world war 3 on my balcony.

It all began when the weather changed from freezing cold to stifling hot (which happened in a matter of days might I add) and the number of insects begin to increase in an exponential manner. At first I was mildly amused by the bees and only slightly afraid of the wasps.

These bees are not like the small and humble bees which can be found back home, but instead a giant monstrosity of a bee. It is the size of my thumb from the knuckle to the end. Huge right? They used to just come and scope out the area, buzzing around in the one spot but then moving out without much problems.




The wasps were always a bit of a problem, but in all honesty I appreciate their honesty. They are a pest, and they don’t pretend to be anything else. They have set up camp in a nearby location and are often flying around sneakily. They have even been known to enter my house (I think it’s because they are spying on me and scoping out the territory that they are trying to win).




Like I said, these bees had lulled me into a false sense of security. I stupidly thought that these oversized bugs were simply gentle giants. The other day I had bravely ventured out on to the balcony for a little bit of sun and to read a paper. I was just sitting there minding my own business when I suddenly felt as though I was being watched. I was content to ignore the crazy stalker stare until a small but distinctly yellow blob of liquid landed on my paper.

“You have to be fucking kidding me?!?! Did a bee just pee on my homework?!”

I think up to this point I had been pretty tolerable of their imposing presence. I hadn’t called in anyone to exterminate the pests, even though I had every right. I had been stared down, I have been swooped, I have been chased inside, barricaded in my room, and now a fricken bee had peed on my homework.. COME ON!

The anger took over me and I looked up and I came face to face with the menacing eyes of a bee. I read somewhere that one should never make eye contact with an angry animal and I wondered fleetingly if this applied to bees. As I was preoccupied with my life that was flashing before my eyes I noticed the buzzing had been upgraded from slightly annoying to intolerable.

There on my balcony, open for everyone to see the wasps had finally launched their attack on the bees. There were aerial battles going on everywhere. I ducked and weaved through the battling insects and tried with little success to get into my apartment whilst keeping the war outside. I had witnessed bees attacking wasps, wasps attached to bees, even a set of bees attacking each other. I was shocked. I was appalled. I was scared.

And this, my friends, is the exact and truthful reason that I haven’t posted any blogs lately.

idolization, floating and contemplation

One of the most compelling factors that made America attractive to me was the fact that I would be leaving behind what I thought was high-school dramas, and be exposed to a world of intellectual learning, motivated young adults and an environment that encouraged and allowed them to shine. Instead I am presented with the same circumstances but with different faces and in a different hemisphere. Whilst the concept of humans being intensely similar in their relationships across the globe is an interesting one I was hoping that the 15,644km between the two wouldn’t be the largest difference. I suppose that anticipating an ideal environment is always going to set one up for disappointment but I can’t help but feel as though I have been cheated.

I continue to go about my life in much the same way that I would if I was home, except now I add in the factor of missing those that I love and care about and the inability to find employment. It is almost enough to make me want to cut my time here in the states short and finish my degree in Australia. That however is an inconceivable thought. Whilst yes, I would find the comforts of home and be able to begin saving to “start my life” it would strip me of the opportunity to travel whilst still continuing my education. Also I don’t wish to cease doing something after I have worked so hard to get here.

However it makes me think that perhaps all things to which we aspire and put great effort into achieving in life are less than the idolized expectations that we held whilst we were trying to get there. Perhaps the glow is in the effort of trying to reach the acclaimed height rather than the height itself. I am in constant battle with two thought processes fighting over brain space; the first being that I am waiting for “real life” to begin, the second being that life is fleeting and I should embrace every moment before it comes to pass. Whilst I know that the second is the more optimistic and ideal option I can’t force my thoughts to come in that way, instead I find myself in this emotional and psychological limbo. Fighting to live for now but content with waiting for life to come along.

Before coming to America I was floating along waiting to go to University, but now that I am here it appears that my floating has simply been relocated and pushed back, so now I am floating along in Georgia waiting to get my degree. Sure there is pleasure to be taken in the everyday existence, catching up with friends, learning new things and experiencing a slightly different culture. But is that pleasure enough to sustain happiness? How does one achieve happiness? Because in my current thought pattern it comes with obtaining my degree and starting my “real life”, however I am quite certain that unless I change the way I approach and think about things that I will always be waiting, always be idolizing. Indeed it seems that the grass is greener on the other side.

So I need to affirm that right now, in this very instant, the moment that is continuous and present is when my “real life” is. If ever to achieve this idolized happiness I need to search for it now, and not wait for it to come to me with certain achievements and milestones. The problems I have with floating is that whilst you are not happy, you are also not sad. With this in mind it is difficult to make specific changes to my life that will eradicate the things which are holding back my happiness, because they are not apparent. So a plan of action is not set in concrete but a plan needs to take place or I will simply float my life away.

unanswerable questions

I was just on Skype with Ivy. My screen was playing up and it made me seem pixelated and appear much like a hologram. It got me thinking about what makes us real? Like perhaps this reality that we are living in is just in my head. That everyone i meet and everything that surrounds me is simply a figment of my imagination. Or of someone elses imagination. But imagination seems like the wrong word. But its the only one that i can think of that can half explain it. Like perhaps my body died an unmeasurable amount of time ago and life as i know it right now is a timeless reality that i have created out of the inability of my thoughts, of my self that is not contained in my mortality to die. And in that death this reality was born. Much like the Matrix, but its not a bunch of people connected to this make believe reality, but my self floating around... no not floating because it holds no physical substance... but my self just existing, and that is what this is. That would make it eternal, because a self without a mortal body has no way of dying, no way of shutting down or of ceasing to exist. Perhaps i made my reality to contain these 'imagined' bodies, as something to contain these selves.
Kind of scary concept when you think about it. There is no way to prove it. Much like the faith of something, of a religion. But in this if i am the creator i would never be able to prove or disprove it to myself. That would end the reality, because if i was sure that it existed, if i understood what it was then it would stop being the instant that i proved it...
Perhaps there was a god, and this is their reality. It wasn't born out of seven days of creating but a single instant where everything corporeal of themselves died but their self which held no physical substance refused to, kind of like their self went insane at the thought of dying and created this. and this is who all of the religions in the world praise, a self that out insanity created an alternate reality to encompass their substance-less self.
sometimes i get to thinking about things like this. It hurts my thoughts. I get into a spiral of questioning everything, unanswerable questions.

"I want to ride my bicycle, bicycle, bicycle"

Walking around Goodwill (a thrift store or opp shop as it is known in Australia) I came across what may appear to the untrained, unimaginative eye as a small children’s bike. But beneath the tiny size and vibrant pink and purple paint I saw the epitome of awesome embodying a vehicle. I had to have it, to own it, to release this metallic awesome into my life.

Nine dollars later and the bike was mine!! Victory was sweet, I could almost taste it. But this was only the beginning. This poor piece of machinery was suffering under the thick coat of girlish paint surrounding its exterior. Stashing it into the boot of Lucio’s car we rushed to Walmart on a mission. A mission to free this bike from the girlish constraints holding it back in the world.

All it took was seven dollars and I had the tools needed to revive this bicycle. Armed with new grips and a tin of shiny black spray paint I set to work as soon as I got back to my apartment. For one night it was transformed into a workshop. My bed covered in metallic parts as I disassembled the bike so I could recreate it, revive it even.


The next morning revealed the awakening of a new era for this bike. No longer a small children’s bike, held down by the purple speckled paint and small handlebars. It was freed and set to take over the world. The pure beauty gleamed in the morning sun, calling out to be ridden. How could I refuse? After the reconstruction I have been rewarded with a pintsize bundle of awesome to travel around on.



In short, I brought a bike, cleaned it, painted it and it only cost $16…. AWESOME

Long Distant

Being in a long distance relationship defiantly tests the foundations of the relationship. You have no physical contact with your partner, so you need to rely on communication skills (yes you have to actually talk to them =0). It’s tough, but in the month that I have been away I have learnt more about my girl than I had in the whole time that I had known her; before and during our relationship. It hasn’t been without frustrations – going from seeing each other every day to not at all isn’t a very easy transition. But I have one tip for any couple willing to try the distance; Skype. It is your savior. Get it. Worship it. Use it. Every day.

Before committing to the long distance each partner has to ask themselves seriously if they are ready to give up everything in order to make this work. Being away from your partner can be one of the hardest experiences of your life. But if you are both willing to put in the effort that it requires it can make your relationship the strongest that it has ever been and indeed stronger than it would have ever been without the distance. This strength doesn’t come easily though, and the effort required isn’t for those who have doubts about their feelings. In a realm of trust and communication, doubt cannot coexist.

So when thinking about my relationship I believe that:
Yes – this has made us stronger.
Yes – Skype is the glue of our relationship.
Yes – it could break couples who thought that they could make it without extra effort.
Yes – this has been the hardest thing I have ever done with another person.
Yes – it brings me close to breaking point all the time.

But

No – I wouldn’t think twice about going through this again because I know that she is worth it.