#minddump

also, I told all my friends they need to download tumblr again. I really hope they give it a chance because I want them to experience this weird sense of peace too. I wonder if they’ll feel the same way? Maybe—just maybe—We can be as cool as when we were 14 and just vibing. =]

I can already tell I’m starting to ignore studying again, hehe =D

Well. I don't want it NOW but the fact remains that I will be getting it very soon, and Dad told us in his note to enjoy our inheritance. I spent a lot of the first two weeks dealing with my brain being numb by looking at kit home designs, which felt kind of mercenary, but also I'm a practical person, y'know.

What I really want is to be able to afford to have someone adapt the plans from the book Dad used to build this:

And build myself a circular house in his honour, but I don't know if I could afford that, and I think it would work in the space I have anyway. Maybe I'll be able to make a circular writing room for myself one day. Or a mini-round house for the chickens.

I'm more than likely going to use the canoe(s) that are at their house at the moment as duck ponds. Or, as my brother said - reverse boats! I think that would have amused Dad. Anyway. Since I came to a practical conclusion about which kit home design would fit in my buildable area and have the space we want/need, I've kinda lost that outlet for mental relaxation/stimulation. Now I've started looking at furniture, which feels mercenary, too. I've mostly lived with second-hand furniture, a lot of the time because I actually like good, solid, older-style pieces. And I think a lot of stuff in the shops new is over-priced and trendy, and there's too much "reconstructed timber" around. I live in a place with some of the best quality crafting timber in the world, if I can get an old Tas oak piece for the same price as a new MDF piece... *shrugs*

Did you know you can get brand new wooden-pallet-style beds? That kinda defeats the whole purpose of making your bed out of RECYCLED wooden pallets, don't it??

Before I rush out and get a new house or furniture, though, I plan to be practical and clean up my yard, get all the fences redone, and have the Accidental Wattle Tree removed. I'm also going to make improvements to the chook pen, which I was planning to do when I got the money and energy anyway.

My step-aunt said they're coming down to sort the house out "the first week of July", so it's still 5-6 weeks before we can start dealing with Dad's actual *stuff*. I have the death certificate now, so I can close accounts and all that, but as far as sorting out his actual possessions, we're still in limbo. You'd think my sister and I would be allowed to go into the house and deal with our own father's things, but apparently not... *sigh*

This post had a point when I opened the editor to start it, I have no idea now what that was supposed to be. I'll probably remember it at 3am, although time is basically meaningless right now. But that's fine, all the days end with Y.

I could write a whole fucking novel on this thought, but damn if it has not been something that I have been trying to figure out how to somewhat eloquently put into words since college, so here goes nothing...

Enjoy the inner workings of my mind.

Art Redefined

What constitutes art?

This is a questions artists and creatives ask themselves,

Or push from their minds with unrelenting diligence.

People the world over create in countless mediums,

Some that many would argue is not even an art form.

Some will be recognized, their names recorded in the histories for ages to come.

Others will create quietly and pass through this life unnoticed.

Art.

A word so perfectly subjective it is a headache to contemplate.

And define.

For a work to be defined as art must it comment on life, politics, or the human condition?

Is art not a portrait of something beautiful and fleeting, captured in a single moment.

Preserved for all of time?

Art is all of these things, more even....and quite possibly everything.

Everything we live our lives in and around.

But can art simply be?

Do we not create as an expression, as an extension of self?

What if art were simply defined as any creative expression of the mind?

Suddenly there is infinite possibility to find beauty in the ordinary.

To awe at the wonder that is creation.

Life is messy.

It requires creativity to truly live.

So is it so radical to say,

We are all artists.

A few notes:

Consider this a thesis statement. The thesis being that art is boundless. Creative thought is just beautiful as any painting (think mathematician, mechanic, city planning, hell, how a person comes up with a creative solution to any problem...the mind is an interesting thing)

A space where i didn’t have to feel rushed to make my choices in whether to stay or to go.

a space where people didn’t call and expect me to know what im doing with my own life.

I need help mentally, i miss my friends, i need money, my son needs to go to school, my husband needs support, I need a space where I can fall apart give all my pieces a kiss and a blessing and put them back together again.

I should have never said a word, i should have kept it together.

Ive been rude and mean and standoffish, Granted i had my reasons but am i gonna be able to straighten up for a whole year.

I am still not over my ex and I haven't seen him since April. 4 months. 8 months ago he dumped me in a corner of the university garden overlooking the lake. Same place we had walked around on our "second date". First, if you don't consider me inviting everyone I met to a gig so I wasn't by myself, and he was the only one to take up the invitation.

That first night I wasn't even thinking about him as a prospect. I was trying to catch the eye of an overly elusive drummer from one of the bands that were playing. He would be the second person that I slept with trying to get over him in a few months' time, but we're not there yet. I still didn't know who this guy that I invited was. I had met him at an orientation mixer for postgrads in the English department and he just so happened to be walking in the same direction when we left the mixer and I just so happened to be trying to round up people to come to the gig.

A few months later, before I knew he was thinking about ending things, he mentioned how he thought I was giving him mixed signals, but when I went home with him he thought it was all intentional on my part. It wasn't.

I fell into something suddenly. He didn't want a "relationship", I didn't want to immediately get into something in a new country anyway. FOMO, on my part. Avoidant attachment, on his. But in time, lines were blurred. It didn't feel like just friends with benefits. He would pull my feet into his lap when we were sitting on the couch. He would tell me I was pretty in the middle of sex, looking at me like something else. He would hold me through my toothache (apparently it was slowly dying after a bad filling) and would still want to be together when I didn't want to have sex. I know. Bare minimum. But it felt different.

And then one day he looked at me like he was finding the answer to something. And maybe he didn't like the answer. Maybe I misread the question. But a month after that, after I had thought he was safe to care for, safe to fall in love with, we were sitting on a bench, I was giving him vegan cheese for his birthday because that was the thing he missed most since going vegan, blue cheese, and he said. "That makes this so much harder."