#minddump

[23september2000]

ever since I decided to download tumblr the other day, I’ve been completely obsessed with it. the last time I used it, I was 14… back then, I spent all my time obsessing over making my blog look perfect. now my old obsession is back! I’ve spent the entire day customizing my theme and trying to make it cuter., so this whole experience feels ridiculously nostalgic, lol.I can’t remember my old tumblr url, but I’m dying to know what music I had on there and what my blog looked like. =( thankfully, I have a brand new one now, and tweaking every little detail is so satisfying. everything just feels so therapeutic. It feels like I’m 14 again. Another thing I still do: I play club penguin sometimes.. :v Every time I log in, I feel like I’m 9 years old again, and life is just simple. I’m literally just a penguin =D

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

Twilight At Carbon Lake

Deerhunter · Microcastle · Song · 2008

Here’s a song I used to be obsessed with back then, enjoy it !!! <3

[jupiterminingcorporation]

One of the ways I used to cope when my brain was porridge was to look at kit home plans, and think about what I might be able to do one day in the future, in 15-20 years when Dad died of natural causes and the family trust was dissolved and I get my inheritance.

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.

And as Sadsack said, The time is always Now.

[5pectre]

So I have this thought...

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)

Line spacing and punctuation were purposeful (so yes the last line is meant to be a statement, not a question)

[ipromisetowrite]

Life is a series of build ups and let downs and victories. We live through turning point after turning point. The turning points and the growing; that’s the stuff that books are made of. When I was a kid I could feel these turning points and I would write myself these manifestos or letters of declaration of who I would become, what I would leave behind, how I would get through. I would promise myself in my developing handwriting inside of ugly diaries or on yellow legal pad pages and then I would sign my name at the bottom, to make it official. Scattered through drawers and boxes, notebooks and diaries between New Jersey and Indiana you can uncover these declarations of past versions of myself I was determined to leave behind. I’m sure many of them have disintegrated or been recycling or stained or laughed at before being crumpled up and thrown in a trash pile. I can’t remember what any one of them said but they were all important. Right now I am at the point of my story where I don’t know. I don’t know what the struggle is or when it will all hit my shoulders or what will break me this time. I don’t know what I’m growing through. Right now I feel like I’m in the stuck phase. The stuck phase might be worse than the bottom. One thing I do remember is a scrapbook diary page. It was a little picture of me, the sun highlighting the curve of my chubby cheeked profile as I looked off frame and then a current, then high school, photo of the same sort of thing. Cut crookedly from old seventeen magazines in words and phrases it read, “Let me be/And I will be/The woman I’ve always been.” Like, fuck, you guys, that is deep. That is significant. That is as important for me to remember now as it was then. Sure, I’ve changed, I’ve left parts behind and I’ve declared myself better, but - that little girl? She was the purest version of the person I am. Her heartbreaks are still mine today; lost friendships and too many feelings. Her joys are still mine as well; fits of laughter, chocolate frosting, watching sports and being outside. She is the most me of all the mes. Sure her momma made her wear itchy dresses that she hated but she also didn’t correct her from sitting with her legs spread.

[plutoire-likes-books-blog]

Man, I wish I knew how to make friends

I been going around Tumblr looking at different blogs and reading about their experiences of beforeTumblr and seriously making me so nostalgic. Recently read a post where this person was saying how easy it is to make friends on this blog and I really loved the wording they used 'Tumblr is like a shout in the void, you just say/do your weird thing and get liked by people who like the same weird things or refer you to people who like this same weird thing' and they were talking about how easy it was to make friends. And I am such a awkward mess like I have probably seen hundreds of blogs and loved so many of them and yet I am so self conscious of writing to them. Aahhhh why am I like this.

[raddgrrrl]

How much i would Adore a space outside of space and time to make my decisions.

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.

Anger is the protector of sadness, so am i sad or angry?

[justathoughtdump]

How am I supposed to forget you? How am I supposed to pretend like every touch didn't set me on fire? Like every look didn't steal my breath and every day you were what was on my mind; when I was listening to music and when I was at some stupid party and every time I had a second to have a spare thought. You haunted my dreams and made my heart swell without even knowing it. Secrete glances and secrete meetings were the only thing that really belonged to us, but you stole me in those stolen moments. How am I supposed to forget that?

[pugginbeaches]

him.

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."

In April, when I saw him, I thought, "He is the most beautiful person I ever met." I thought I could convince him to take me back. But I couldn't. You never really can.