Sound and vision

I need perspective, I can't trust my eyes
                  'Perspective' Peter Gabriel

Got a new toy yesterday and I am mahoosively excited!

Yes, after months of to-ing and fro-ing about it, Sandy has bought a graphics tablet and promptly gave herself huge eye ache transforming an old pic of snow and ice on the front gate into something a bit more artsy and brooding...

All right so I'm probably the artist currently known as not an artist, but I see this as evidence that along with the design course, new avenues are opening up ready for me to walk down and that is a very, very good thing. I'm big on saying keep putting one foot in front of the other and new vistas will open up but at times wish I could either walk a bit faster or the vistas weren't quite so hidden in friggin' mist.  You would think that the older I get, the easier being patient would be. Unfortunately it just makes me look at my watch more and mutter 'can we bloody get on with this now?'

You've heard me bitch plenty about not being where I'd like to be at this stage of my life and you'll be thanking the non-existent deity that this blog is not going to be bitchfest version 193.6.29...kind of like iTunes updates, but less prone to fucking up your entire music collection. Noooo, this blog is about hope and where you find it...which is usually not where or when you expect.

I'm a bit of an authority on this, having found the kindest man in the world on the other side of the world and the other side of me thinking I would ever find anyone, evverrrr. I used to work for Dutch cafe owners who told me there is a Dutch saying about relationships which translates as 'there's never a pot so odd you can't find a lid to fit it'. I would have told you a few years back that the Dutch obviously talk out of their arse. As it turns out, they don't and I was wrong. I couldn't see that I was wrong at the time. I could only see a very odd, lonely pot.

I've been thinking a lot about perspective and not only because I've been doing weird design exercises involving masking tape and hand tracing all week.  Part of this whole blogging malarkey is me trying to find answers to my own questions, which are endless, apparently. I think I've pretty much plumbed the 'normal' ways of sorting yourself out, whatever the hell 'normal' means.  But if I am an odd pot, and by this stage I have to hold my hands up to that one and, as hypno-dude keeps telling me, embrace my uniqueness, why did I think I would sort myself out with normal anyway?

The thing is, you can't always believe what you see. My eyesight is shit, so definitely don't believe what I see.  I have Aboriginal heritage and a black mother and  but look pure Skippy (Aussie for white Anglo). I'm Sandy, daughter of Norm and Noela. I'm also Patricia, daughter of (freaky coincidence) Sandra and John. Basically I am my own parallel universe.  There are fragments of life you can't knit together, no matter how hard you try. But is that necessarily a bad thing?

It can be a bad thing if you like everything neat and ordered and explainable...which part of me does.  Part of me would adore being Sandy, uncomplicated boring person, mainly because I think if I was I would have had less headspace trauma and heartache.  But then I wouldn't be the fascinating person writing this blog today, har har. I think I've come around to the fact I am where I am in life because I'm meant to see things differently. The self help freaks say this is the universe guiding you along paths that make you grow. I call it an almighty pain in the arse, but at least one that makes me a multifaceted, compassionate human being. Hopefully.

You can see Sandy the Anglo or Patricia the Murri, they are one and the same. In the same way you can see hurdles, burdens, issues and problems and think 'fuck this I am over it' (which I can say is true because I have done it many, many times) or you can see the same things and ask what you need to learn...which I am doing more often although still swearing about it. It's all perspective in the end. You can believe what you want to believe and act or not act accordingly.

I want to continue to open my mind and see what comes out of it other than the occasional bitchfest. I'm not saying there will never be another bitchfest. There may be one in an hour but while I'm willing to grow there is hope for better. And where there is hope there is possibility and where there's possibility there's opportunity and success. That's all the perspective you need, with or without masking tape.

Square pegs and round holes

If nobody loves you, and you're feeling like dust on an empty shelf
Just remember, you can love yourself
                      'Love Yourself' Keb'Mo

See, I haven't even started writing this blog yet really and I'm already questioning myself over whether I'm going to sound wanky. This must be some sort of sign that what I'm about to say is interesting and important. Or that I am wanky.  The fact I'm writing a blog about my life'/struggles/mental gymnastics is kind of wanky anyway, isn't it? Or at the very least, self indulgent. The ultimate word selfie! I'll be taking photos of myself and putting them on Facebook next. Oh, hang on...

Sometimes I really wish I was one of those people who thought enough of what they had to say and contribute to society that they never apologise for saying or contributing.  Admittedly a lot of those people are massive pains in the arse who overall have nothing to say or contribute that's going to do anyone any good whatsoever. But what if they say something awesome one day? What if we tell them to bloody well shut up and we miss it and it could have changed the world? I'm going through a headcloud ME phase at the moment and can't think of an example of such a person, but I know they exist. They do. Really.

All of this is leading up to what I want to actually say today (eventually) which is that my whole life I have spent waaaay, waaaay too much effort trying to fit in when what I really should have said was this is me, like it or fuck off. To myself as much as anyone. I am the ultimate questioner of self but have never really asked the most important question: why do I think it's always me who has to change?

Years and years ago I was on a plane from Melbourne to Brisbane reading an article in the inflight magazine about a famous Australian actress and getting irate and wanting to punch her because she said something along the lines of being too expansive for the world she found herself in as a teenager and having to 'halve herself and halve herself again' to fit in.  The fact I am recalling this the better part of a decade later is probably enough evidence that I was getting angry not because, as I thought at the time, she was an uppity cow who needed a good slap.  It was because Sandy is a halver.  I am actually cringing as I type this. Annoyingly, it's not so much because of the thought of being a halver and therefore compromising myself. It's because of the thought of sounding like an uppity cow who needs a good slap.

And if I am an uppity cow who needs a good slap...what the hell does that matter really?? Seriously. I get bollocked by people anyway.  What's the difference if I believe in myself or don't believe in myself or am me or not me if I still get bollocked anyway?  May as well be true to myself, blue hair and all.

What's brought this all this on, well as I mentioned in an earlier blog, I am now a design student (oo er) and now find myself sharing my creative side with an actual arts community.  I don't regard myself so much as an artist as a good ideas person who wants to find creative ways of expressing them.  There are however seriously arty people doing this course. And that is great, but why does that lead me to the thought 'fark, another place where I'm a square peg in a round hole'?

I am cringing again now because not only I am I now exposed as a halver, I'm one of those people who just wants to fit in. But I don't. But I do. But I don't. But I do. Aaaaagggghhhh!!!!!

Actually, I don't want to fit in.  I want to be invisible. I blame my real father.  I didn't realise until I met him obviously, but suddenly whole facets of my personality made sense when we were sitting on his balcony in the middle of an enormous block of land and he told me he had bought acreage so he could avoid people.  They scared the shit out of him. They scare the shit out of me too. Unfortunately I don't have acreage and do have regardless of blind terror of humanity an absolute passion for all the good interesting stuff in the world and sharing it and contributing to it.  You see my dilemma. I want to hide but I can't. Bugger.

I don't really see myself as a square peg in a round hole either.  I'm more octagonal and instead of running around trying to find square holes or force myself into round holes I should get off my arse and carve myself out a nice octagonal hole to fit in. Not half an octagon either. A whole one.

Haters gonna hate, but hopefully, one day, the hater that gonna hate me won't be me. Hypno-dude told me a while back that I need to unleash my individuality and I told him the world probably isn't ready for it yet. It probably isn't.  I'm probably not entirely ready to not halve myself either, honestly. But I need to. So best get on to it.

War! What is it good for?

I've spent too many years at war with myself
The doctor has told me it's no good for my health
To search for perfection is all very well
But to look for heaven is to live here in hell
                        'Consider Me Gone' Sting

Forgive me bloggies for I have sinned, it is several weeks since my last confession. It's just as well I gave the Catholic thing up when I was about 11 or I would be up to my arse in Hail Marys right now and that I can assure you is a place I don't want to be. Apologies to my Catholic friends for whom Mary is a comfort.  I don't have anything against her personally, I just don't see the point in asking her to do stuff for me, particularly when I'm capable of getting off my own arse and doing it myself.

The truth of the matter is that I have been living and debating too much in my own head to get the thoughts out in a blog, and that's pretty much another place I don't want to be.  I'm not saying it has been a bad few weeks, there's been plenty going on and plenty to be proud of. Plenty to be fucking annoyed at too, but hey ho that's life innit? But along with being overall pretty happy at how life is panning out, I have been more or less at war with me and my own perception of where I should and could be, if I just tried harder. Because that would solve everything, wouldn't it? Apparently.

I don't really do self-acceptance that well and by that I mean I despise what I see as my own weaknesses and this, if I think too much about it, can lead me to despise me...add that one to the list of places I don't want to be, along with Mary and in my head and North Korea and places where they don't sell Vegemite or at least allow you to carry it in your hand baggage.  I'm quite tolerant of other people's weaknesses, some would say empathetic and forgiving.  Haven't quite got the hang of doing the same for me. But then I'm not worth it, am I? I am, I know I am, plenty of people whose opinions I trust say that I am. I am. But I'm not. But I am. Maybe.

You start to see where the war theme is coming from. Tomorrow, when I'm not feeling so crapped off with myself, I will change my mind but today I reckon I should change my name to Afghanistan because it's a good name for a region where internal conflict never seems to bloody well cease. They could call me Stan for short, or Afghan when I was wearing a fluffy coat. Or Bloody Idiot for wanting to change my name to Afghanistan because I can't sort my own shit out. Aaaaaggghhhhhhh!!

Right, let's talk positives for a minute. In the last month, I have increased my fitness through loads of walking, my diet has improved nutrition-wise, I've started studying design and it's interesting and engaging. No idea where it's taking me currently, but it's expanding my mind. I no longer have the stress of the Home Office hounding me out of the country. Husband and dog love me and the cat tolerates me as long as I feed her promptly. Well, to be fair, she probably loves me but it's hard to tell with cats. Or is that just Cara?

Negatives: probably as a result of increased activity the ME has been biting pretty hard and it's fucking me right off. I'm constantly having to duck and weave around symptoms to get things done at the moment.  I missed being in Australia to celebrate my best friend's milestone birthday and was crushed about that and massively homesick as a byproduct. Eased off to just homesick now. Would really, really like to go back to Aus for a visit but not sure when we can afford it.

And the negative which is probably fucking me off the most, not because it's worse or more important than any of the above (because it's not) is despite training for a walking half marathon and eating good food and watching portion sizes my weight is up and down like a friggin' yo-yo. Still. Have been losing and gaining the same three or four pounds for ages. To be fair my weight has been pretty stable for a long time and that's progress for me but not the progress I really want. Pah!!

Is it just that my weight seems to be the barometer for my life? My mood and optimism are up and down at the moment. Scales are reflecting it. Not so hard to understand really, but, sorry I have to shout this because I am really bloody frustrated with myself right now I AM FUCKING SMARTER THAN THIS, WHY HAVE I NOT GOT PAST MY OWN FUCKING DEMONS BY NOW???!!!!!!!

That's it, that's why it's pissing me off so much.  There, in numbers, is the proof that despite years of effort and work and tears and anger, I still really don't have my shit together. That's what's getting on my tits really. I would really like to think that at some point all my efforts at trying to improve my headspace and my life would result in someday not having the headspace or life issues that brought me here in the first place.  I'm probably all the more frustrated because I do believe it can happen. I believe in the power of people to massively change their lives. I even still believe it can happen for me.

But if I am putting effort into change, working on it, believing in it...why is it taking so fekkin' long??? Faaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrkkkkkkk!!!!

This is where the self help gurus talk about living in the moment and acceptance and self love and shit like that. Well all right, it's not shit but I'm really glandy and sore and tired today so they can say it but probably better if they phone me rather than turn up at my door because they might get punched. Put that in your mantra and smoke it!

Last weekend I had one of those illuminating but disturbing moments when you realise how far you have to go. People who have read my earlier posts would acknowledge that while I can be regarded as a tad unhinged I have at least been putting a fair effort in trying to improve myself and my life. Thought I was doing all right too.  And I am really, but I think it finally hit me on the weekend how low my sense of self worth really is. Call me dumb, but it shocked me. At the intellectual level, I acknowledge my own value, brilliance, individuality and all the other shit self help gurus go on about. At the soul level...I still have some serious work to do. Hence all the sooky la-la above.

I sometimes wonder whether the ME was the universe's seemingly crap gift that stripped everything away so I could see where I really was and start again. Grinding fatigue has this way of taking everything back to the bare bones.  Maybe I needed the current dip to take stock and see where the next battle is. Or being tired and sore is making me delirious and talk bollocks, I'm not sure which.

Either way...war sucks and I am over it. I'm a pacifist at heart. Just need to remember that losing one battle or even four or five or 182 doesn't mean losing the war. No excuses, no surrender!!!!