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Sunday, March 13 - Take a Journey It’s like when you sit down to write something but nothing comes out. Your pen is poised, waiting for that 10% of inspiration to come leaping into your brain through one of your ears. But nothing happens. It’s that wait that makes your self-esteem plummet. ‘Why can’t I think of anything interesting?” you ask yourself “What if at this exact moment every other person in the world is having an amazing idea and I’m the only one who can’t do it”.It’s the 10% inspiration part that is the most difficult. When you’ve got that organised you just have to sit down and soldier through the 90% perspiration. That’s what I’m doing right now. Except I only started with about 3% inspiration. Which means I’m down 7% of the full mix. So everything is off balance. My world is spinning off its axis. It’s out of control. He grabbed his jacket. It took 20 minutes to walk to the train station and he was meeting his girlfriend there in 15. He was always late so she probably assumed Okay yesterday I was walking to the shops, walking because I wanted the exercise, to the shops, because I needed to buy some chocolate. So in hindsight the two things practically cancelled each other out. But that is not the point. On my way to the shops I Not many stories begin with a rabbit. But this one does. It was an albino rabbit, one of those white ones with the red eyes, one of those creepy rabbits. The rabbit was sitting in the middle of the road, probably minding it's own business, possibly thinking about carrots. Problem was that I was driving down this same road that the rabbit was sitting in the middle of. I almost ran it over. I’m in a white room. You can see the white paint on the walls slightly cracking above the small window. There’s something about the floor that makes you think when people walk around in this room they’re walking fast. Either to get away from something, or maybe to get to something. I don’t understand. I’ve never seen this place before in my life. But something about it is familiar. Like visiting the house you grew up in but not remembering any of it. I’m sitting on a bed, which probably indicates that I’ve been sleeping but I don’t remember waking up. I just remember being here. The sheets are molded to my body, outlining my arms, my stomach, my legs. I never noticed how long my legs were before, how bumpy. Look busy. He’s coming this way. Don’t stare. Pretend to be talking about somebody cute. Laugh. Don’t look at him. Make him notice you. That’s it. He’s walking towards you. Pretend you’re having a great time. Good. Now if he talks to you act surprised. He’s the last thing you were thinking about. Play it cool. That’s it. Relax. Play nice. Act interested in the conversation. Excellent. Now make an excuse to leave. Speak to another male in his eye-line. Make sure he notices. Now walk away. Good Job. Mission accomplished. It’s hard to understand why some things happen and some things don’t. Like how come all these stories started and my fingers wouldn’t let me finish them. But it’s not like they are unfinished. They just don’t have endings. But in relation to the workings of the world does it really matter? I don’t understand how 3% inspiration and 90% perspiration created a rabbit, a white room, a train station, a trip to the shops, and an inner monologue. I don’t understand why I never ran over the rabbit, never found out why I was in the white room, never met my girlfriend at the train station, never bought any chocolate and never saw that boy again. My life could have been lived in any of these situations, in any of these places, doing any of these things. It’s like a tree you know, keeps branching out. Decisions. Take two steps out your front door, turn 180 degrees to your right, take two steps forward. That was the longest journey in the history of the world. It was a journey though. A short one, but it was a journey. Who says a journey has to have a defined ending? Why can’t a series of beginnings be a journey? The smallest thing can be a journey, two steps out your front door, 10 seconds of your walk to the shops, grabbing a jacket before you go to meet your girlfriend, almost running over Peter rabbit, wondering where you could be, thinking about making that boy notice you, inspiration, perspiration. I take a journey every time I write a sentence. You take a journey every time you read a word. We learn different things, but it’s the same journey. (c) Maureen Bros. 2005. crumble | 7:13 pm
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aoi's design from SCRATCH © 2004
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DOB: 8th of October COUNTRY: Australia & Kangaroos
FAMILY: Mum, Dad, Mitchie, Claudia PETS: Tom the Sexy Beast FEELING:   
likes... buffy the vampire slayer, greys anatomy, glass house, kumars at #42, spicks and specks, west wing, angel, gilmore girls, dark angel, firefly, stargate, lord of the rings, star wars, the simpsons, crossing jordan, tru calling, ally mcbeal, bradley whitford, dominic monaghan, david wenham, rupert grint, james masters, anthony stewart head, elvis, hilary duff, evanescence, good charlotte, the whitlams, machine gun fellatio (the band), my baby tom, writing, singing in the shower, playing pool, netball, basketball, exams, tidying, chinese food (lemon chicken, sizzling steak, chicken and sweet corn soup, san choi bow, spring rolls, prawn chips), my old friends, my new friends, my other friends, my box, my papyrus, my faerie picture, mount caules story. 
 dislikes... bugs, honey, insects that she thinks are poisonous (all of them!), marmalade, studying, not knowing things, not being able to splel, the english curriculum, vacuuming, the beach, being on stage and not knowing what to do, shopping, gross things, vegemite, olives, dark chocolate, flower smells, the hsc, beetroot, my boobs, pickles, people picking their noses, half-eaten food, playing drama games all lesson and not doing any work, my father nagging me to study when I am indeed studying, my father nagging me to study when I am indeed doing something other than studying, losing money, being fat, when the tv times change and you don't know, mornings, being lonely. |
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