So I’m sure you’re like me- you’ve made some loose plans for things you’re going to do. Some are much more attainable (holiday vs. starting a business). Ideas maybe? Maybe it’s just comparing what you want, and by what age you want it. I’m 25 and I’m not where 21 year old me thought I would be by 25. But 21 year old me was only a kid. Evidence is in this very website. So how do you change that? I’ve read about the change in people, I’ve heard about gambling on themselves, and other ways to achieve satisfaction within thyself. The common denominator I found in their success- is struggle. Or hustle; I find that to be the better word. We all know the douchebag with ‘daddys money‘ who launches into ventures with no fear of failure, because their failure is still safe. Can you imagine having the safety net of fucking up- it’s like half assing’ an assignment but knowing you’ll pass anyway. Why try? They don’t succeed, think about it- you know someone, they do it because they can, not necessarily because they want to.

But what about the person risking everything to make it happen with no alternative? The artist selling work on the street. The local store owner offering amazing customer service everyday trying to build a loyal customer base with huge competition from chain franchises. It’s almost overplayed, but yet they still pop up. New places open. Look at all the boutique burger joints- studies say they are collectively damaging McDonalds on a global scale, McDonalds even changed their marketing to be more in line with smaller chains. Can you believe that? You never would’ve bought into that 5 years ago.

Sure, a lot of small businesses we saw years ago are still here- and a lot aren’t. So who’s hustling and who isn’t?

Fuelled by hunger- humiliation, pride, ego, power and doing anything you can to avoid feeling as low as you did when you ‘lost’ or realised that your life is sucking and you aren’t okay with doing it anymore – that’s the drive. It’s driving a starvation to empower others, a hunger to rid yourself of that low feeling. To succeed or win, even just so you earn some sort of self satisfaction through your struggle. It doesn’t have to be a million dollar salary- it just has to be rewarding to you and give you purpose- pride maybe. Happiness. Working on yourself is the best thing you don’t get paid for.

Even added bonuses of proving to some people who expect nothing of you; that you’re better than they think of you, but doing it because you want more for yourself. It’s just a perk when you piss other people off. Starvation is the secret ingredient that most people never feel- because they coast along with a consistent meal of accomplishment and complacency that never encourages them for change and risk. The successful recipe is rare, but it’s because something is genuinely broken within yourself that you can’t fucking deal with being mediocre or not fulfilling YOURSELF enough to potential with where you want to be. Maybe your job does it, or your parents, or your lover. Or seeing someone do well off an idea you’ve played with inside the safety of your imagination, and feeling like you should’ve acted on it – but you didn’t, and someone else did. You envision it and dream about your ideas but never ACT. It’s putting it off until next year. Or when the time is right. Or when you learn more. It’s finding a reason not to do it. You’re never going to be fully ready- learn from doing – start now. Sinatra said the best revenge was massive success. On the money Frankie.

But where does it begin? I hate this whole ‘participation’ awards nowadays. I grew up on winning and losing. It taught me how much losing sucks and how good winning felt. It created drive, to win. Why would you set the standard of participation on par with success? Fuck, I still have a mentality where I hate losing, because I consider myself a winner. I know it’s stupid, but I feel like I can beat anyone at anything. It’s a HUGE ego trip but it’s my nature, I don’t care who you are or what you do- I can beat you (it usually ends in savage defeat- but before it starts I feel like I have a chance). It’s drive. When I lose- I try to fix it. When I want to win, I figure out a plan, and execute to achieve that winning result, and when I REALLY want something, I figure it out- by any means possible. I don’t have the starvation yet but until you launch into a risk- especially when there is so much on the line, you’ll work harder. Nobody likes losing money, or pride, or anything really. So like the rat finds the cheese in the maze, you find ways to make it work by going about it differently. What didn’t work is scrapped and try another route.

But what do people do when they don’t care about the result at all? NOTHING. They participate in life and then die. They loved, they got married, bought a house, worked a job they didn’t enjoy or challenge them and then they died. Happiness lived after 5pm or on weekends. But what about their ideas? They died too. Nobody knew about them. Can you imagine the amount of brilliant people who never acted on ideas; who left notebooks full of thoughts to be eventually thrown away after they died? Dark- I know, but those words were written because someone didn’t want to forget them; and guess what? We forgot. You don’t have a wikipedia page or your quotes online. They’ll be at the dump because they were always plans- not action. The irony being if I don’t ever do anything with my own life- these words are wasted too. Added motivation.

It’s been a strange few weeks for me, I find myself turning less and less to my usual support systems; because I’m starting to feel not so close to them anymore. I don’t feel their drive, or their need for me, it’s rattling. How can you awaken them? You can’t. I wish everyone understood you need to be selfish when you plan YOUR life, because at the end of the day, whoever lives trying to make someone else’s happiness above theirs will never feel satisfied for themselves. I actually did that for a while too. Sure love and affection is huge- I’m very warm to people I care for- but I never actually DID anything. There actually is a world where both exist together, because the warmth you receive from someone else will motivate your ideas and plans- it’s support. They want it for you, just like you for them. 50-50. Until then- eat your safe world without risks and tell me how bland it tastes. Don’t try anything new. Don’t grow. Stay put.

I know I’m definitely a hypocrite- but I’m honest about it too. If I want something I’ll at least try- most of the time. Even if people tell me not too- I’ll probably try harder. Sometimes I feel like succumbing into a screaming match because I am powerless as the only person to blame is myself- and it would be so much easier to pin it on someone else. No, you fool, it’s you– be selfish, if you don’t- nobody else will do it for you. Yes I’m absolutely in a stage of madness, but you can’t fault the honesty. I’ve been on both sides, the hurt and the hurter, the winner and the loser, the lover and the fighter. But ask me which one I would pick in all 3 cases? Ain’t hard, and for the record I’m a lover’.

I felt my security and routine start to break, my frustration everyday grows and it’s because I’m doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results- Einsteins theory for insanity. I can feel the change, the way I looked at myself changed; I saw it in my eyes. Wake up, man, fuck- what have you accomplished that you WANTED to do? You’re 25. Society doesn’t dictate when I should and shouldn’t be married/have children/have my dream job or be at a certain point in my life- I do. I felt behind my eyes disintegrate like a shattered china plate; but into a million pieces of hunger. I realised my wasted days and moments and loathed them. I realised every fucking second I stared at a screen and didn’t move, entertained by someone else’s ideas. It made me feel disgusted. Every inspiration I have is because whoever did it- acted.

We cannot see the wind in an empty street. Plant trees.

C.f

As I waited anxiously for my coffee to be handed to me, middle afternoon on the third day of winter, I looked around. Sitting by the window on a high wooden stool inside a seemingly old fashioned cafe I couldn’t help but notice some things. The furniture and everything didn’t match and I had safely never seen anyone inside before in my life. The youngest staff member was probably 35. They sold candles and soap. Then I put my phone away, dropped my problems travelling behind my eyes and listened.

The busy cafe hummed with presence, the mere noises you would associate with a medium sized open space filled with people simply being…people. Conversing, not thinking, just talking and breathing, as if using this time to fill their day doing something, anything interesting at all that gets them out of the house. As I embraced my fly-on-the-wall state, I listened intently on various snippets of conversation that were loud enough to pickup. Two elderly women were aggressively discussing a surgery of one of the members, referencing the strenuous process of recovery and how terrible it was going. Another 30-something lady bickered to her younger friend in gym clothes whilst repeatedly moving her stroller back and forth, seemingly drifting between bickers and checking over her baby boy who seemed to be enjoying the view from his dreams. There was another lady waiting, seemingly distraught that her choice of beverage cost 50c more for soy milk, guaranteed to complain to the first person she sees after leaving the cafe (we all have one). Finally, there was a 30-something guy by himself, scrolling through an iPad and looking extremely curious; as if he had realised he was the only patron who was dining inside without someone to complain too opposite him.

And then there was me.

All these troubles, it’s crazy. I know we’re all selfish and have our own problems which we feel are more exciting and important than others, because they are our own. In our life story, we are the star, so our experiences trump others’ experience because we cannot feel someone else’s experience, but we sure felt our own and feel like telling everyone.

BUT,

Instead of talking about good things, we find it more appealing to talk about things that suck, as it’s maybe more entertaining, or it gets us sympathy and attention, or we’re venting. Which is cool, but fuck, look around at the faces next time you find yourself people watching- then wonder what message you’re sending? We all have problems. Some are more serious than others, I get that, and venting and confiding in others is important. We all know venting is like shaking a coke bottle and letting it explode. Sure it’s a release, but at the end of the day you have to deal/cleanup the mess you’re standing in. Or leave it forever and have a big ass stain on the floor that gets darker and darker the more you step on it. Clean it up you fool. Do you need to carry your problems into society with you and drop crumbs of them on anyone who gets too close? Maybe you have something happier to say? I encounter people all day everyday, and usually the average response to ‘how is your day?’ is ‘not bad, but a) the day isn’t over yet b) just had this happen…[insert trivial problem that isn’t a real problem]’. Man, what a bummer. I remember every nice person though, I walk out feeling energised, super positive and whistling.

Sometimes I just need to listen to the world and decide what noises I’m releasing, and sometimes it strikes a nerve. I was the old lady, I was the mum and I’ve definitely been the loner at the table judging everyone (just judged him again, sorry bro). But after that, I took my double-shot delicious nectar-of-the-gods in it’s cardboard cup to my car, stared at my phone screen and put it away. I changed my music from sadness of “The Smiths” to the upbeat of “The Drums” and it was a wake up x 2 (caffeine kick).

My sister has MS, and I guarantee you, if you walk into any room she’s sitting in she’ll always smile at you. She can be crazy, and she can bitch and goss about dumb things, but most of the time, she’s beaming and it’s contagious. She’s awesome to be around. Are you?

C.f

I can see her face through my imagination, constructing it behind my eyes, through my memories, with my ideas of what I hope and remember combines to be.
I feel her eyes looking for me too; it makes the blood pump against my chest. Like my heart is searching for an escape, wanting to see for itself the canvas of this remarkable soul. Her soul is a gift. Rewarding whoever catches a second glance with rich inspiring notes filling every step, scream and surface.

Does she still exist?
When she paints her ideas, does it resemble me, even in fragments?
Am I in love with a synthetic woman or have I lost my grasp on reality by fabricating an image to quench my need for something I can’t touch?
My mind wanders over and over, showing me it’s power; not of a superhuman but of a human who needed to realise how the mind can create and feel simply by it’s own power and ideology, unprovoked and uncontrolled with no restraints forming a uniquely beautiful image rapidly like a wild beast breaking out of a cage.
It’s late, and it’s lonely, but my mind sees her, and has seen her before, and when I see her again, I’ll know. It will find a way, right?
It’s scary to think, what if I’m oblivious to my own lies?
Maybe I’m painting the lie to protect my everyday thoughts, consoling myself through ideas of what ‘could’ or ‘might’ happen, holding a match to chase the flame and search for the spark.

Whatever, fuck. I’ll follow these thoughts, vulnerably running into darkness with no clue of my surroundings- aimlessly following my hopes and memories and what they combine to be.

As I write, and re-write, and re-paint inside where nobody else can see EXACTLY what I see, I’ll try to explain to you. This madness sounds mad to you, but imagine it as an ever-changing collection of loops and flashes like a broken tape playing only split seconds of a film from all different scenes, understandable only to someone who has seen it many times before. Piecing together the flashes to create the entire picture. Ludicrous, isn’t it?

Until that picture forms, I’ll quietly keep my ideas and chase them to be truth; allowing myself the comfort of trying even if it appears too distant right at this very moment.
If I gave you wings, would you fly? Would you leap into the void knowing you could fly out? I guess it’s the same thing, because not everything that has wings can actually fly.

The beauty in the imagination is that what we all see behind our eyes could in fact be real and although nobody in this entire universe can see exactly how I envision or what my mind paints; that does not make it any less likely that it could be real. She could have the eyes I see and she could have a soul that inspires and warms others with kindness and beauty. She might not look the same right now, but one day she will be both physical and an idea, in thought and in touch, in front of me, and by my side.
So as I lay here trying to remember, trying to reimagine, trying to sleep; painting with a private brush..
I hope the only lying I’m doing is on this bed.

C.f

“You seem to fear me don’t you?

It’s okay. I’m accustomed to it. Those who notice me, are always afraid.

I’ll collect your minutes, I’ll add to my pile. The more time you waste, I’ll collect it all.”

It’s one of my biggest fears, the waste of time and potential. The thought that a ‘thing’ is collecting my time, picking up my hours, minutes and seconds -collecting them all. Picking up every day that I waste.

Can you imagine? Once the day changes, it’s stolen. 24 hours of new history, where you cannot change or achieve anything in that time, ever again?

Call me mad, and I hate-to-break-it-to-you – but the ‘day-eating-being’ is real, even if you don’t see it.

So regardless if I told you, or you knew of it already, or you simply don’t care- I still have something to tell you.

You were put on this earth, to do what you love, to leave your years of existence and handprints where you choose, but only the way you choose. To chase what you want to do with your days and minutes, not wasting a day. I can safely tell you, you weren’t put here to be miserable and give control of your happiness to others. I think we just stumble into these lapses when we think far off into the future, rather than simply thinking about ‘tomorrow’. It’s healthy to plan ahead, but tomorrow is closer. You have to remember how many ‘tomorrows’ you’ll have before your long term goals are achieved. They should be equal priority.

So as I sit on my bed, writing these words, using my fingers to translate what my brain wants to say: I hope you listen. And I’m sick of these stupid-ass posts about ‘self-help’ and the borderline cheesy topics that most people won’t actually do anything about, but I gave it a try. Just so you know, I’m not living my dream yet, nor am I even employed properly in a job that is close to my dream. I’m struggling, and I’m feeding the ‘day-eating-being’ many of my days, wishing they had worked out better for me. I’m also afraid that it’s taking potential and talent away from me, replacing it with a need to settle in desperate times for something I don’t want to do. Which is okay; for now. It won’t always be like this. Each day is precious, and I’ll appreciate the better ones more because of it.

So for future me reading this, and maybe you right now- I hope it’s working. There is always beauty in the struggle, I promise you. Start looking for it everyday. The days being eaten tomorrow won’t be wasted if they’re getting you closer towards where you want to be.

Moments stolen from New York and Chicago.
New York

Chicago

C.f

Glancing left to right whilst walking forward, not one set of eyes is caught from the faces above the coats. It feels oddly familiar; aimlessly walking down the dim lit city street where everyone keeps their eyes to themselves, the cold early hours of a winter morning. The air is still, the sound is footsteps and water drips on the cold pipes, surfaces, bricks and street lights; reminding you that at any moment the skies could open, even if to swallow you and steal you into the night without a trace. I’m afraid to encounter another soul, yet do not feel alone, occupied with my thoughts which become more distracting once the sun disappears, as if afraid of the light.
My footsteps bring me closer to the building on my right hand side, as I steer myself around others walking against me in the opposite direction. The road to my left is empty, as are the buildings across the street. Before I know, I’m beside the industrial concrete building, gazing up at it’s bare cold structure, watching a trail of smoke escape from behind it’s roof. I come up to a wooden edged window, and turn to face cold steel eyes, and the abyss behind them, not knowing if they are my own or someone else’s. I can’t help contemplating how all the non mad people are silently sleeping in normal lives, and here I stand outside, awake, looking at the glass shadow of a madman. I turn to walk away, shrugging off the mad mans eyes and assuring myself the moons light does that to everyone, comforting myself to believe something I know isn’t truth. Breathing puffs of dust into the air, I notice through the dull colours that every feature which normally lays without any beauty, has an enhanced feature of romance, trapped in the tragedy that it only becomes beautiful at a time when nobody is looking at it. Through this thought, something catches my eye on the other side of the street, making me instantly forget.

Between the moving coats that operate like machines on the sidewalk, a woman sits outside on a window sill, striking me like light filling through the cracks in the clouds. Her eyes are dark, but warm, deep with seduction that whatever you’re doing is intoxicating. Her dimples move as she changes her perfect mouth, draped in red lipstick whilst contemplating thoughts she herself is occupied with. Her long brown hair rests beside her warm face, a beauty that would exist in any light, time or setting. She looks down, as if searching for solutions in the concrete to destroy her problems, searching for something. She quickly looks up, as if she found the answer, catching my moon reflecting eyes in the process that are so large with curiosity and thought that the world is silenced and I can only hear my inner voice.

I want her comfort, I want to change my solitude and sit next to her, I want company between the coats. A million things race through me, giving me an energy to find the answers. Why is she out here? What is she thinking about? Why isn’t she sleeping safely, avoiding the mad dangerous creatures drifting through the night without a purpose?
She smiles, still staring into my eyes, as if attempting to answer my curiosity with a calm, warm gesture. I nod, and send a smile back, simply to let her know that I appreciate the warmth she sent my way.
She gestures for me to come over with her hand, not breaking eye contact with her brown eyes, as if seeing right into my thoughts and quenching my desire. I look both ways, intoxicated with the idea of being close to something so beautiful, wanting to protect it whilst losing my loneliness in the warmth. The road is clear, and without hesitation I step down off the sidewalk onto the road, and sink. Like a terrible fall into the abyss, the ground disappears at my touch, feeling like I stepped off a boat into the ocean rather than being swallowed whole by the city street. My heart drops, I lose her eyes as I fall out of sight, searching above me for anything to hold on to, but there is nothing. I begin to accept it, I’m slowly falling into the dark side of the night, air whisking past me, as if trapped inside a tornado of blur, wishing so desperately that I was back on the sidewalk.
I close my eyes, trying to hide from the fall, and let out a painful roar that seems to come from deep within my chest. The pain of the missed opportunity, knowing that I’m getting further away whilst feeling close to nothing like I’m in the middle of the ocean. I try to imagine I’m still on the sidewalk, or maybe the window sill; but it’s too late. I open my eyes, it’s calm, quiet, peaceful. I have a blanket on my chest, I’m not falling anymore. A pillow is under my thoughts and an illuminated set of numbers glows in the outline of an object in front of me.

01:17 AM.

I close my eyes, hoping to see the large brown eyes again, the warm presence, the beauty. Slowly, and effortlessly, my mind falls back into sleep.

Maybe the mad people sleep too, maybe the mad man isn’t you?

Maybe.

I’ve begun to realise what I want in this life, and I want to give whomever is reading this some mental dribble to think about as the dawn of a New Year inches ever closer.

Reflect on your life, and harness the people around you who own beautifully encouraging souls, as they will make you feel richer whilst wanting to see you succeed with all your ambitions. The flip on this is to rid yourself of the people who want company in complacency, and have chosen you to join them in the safety net of not achieving things. They achieve this through attempting to keep you from growing by discouraging your strange thoughts and ideas when they are most fragile.

You are a fire, surround yourself with gasoline instead of water, and explode into living a passion filled life. Have a strong mindset that isn’t easily extinguished. There is always generations who were too heavily influenced by social norms to spread and expand their minds, but you are different. You don’t have to be contained by a job, a family, a religion or even your own goals and limits. Chase knowledge infinitely, be strong you fool! Leap into the void and create your mark on this earth. Don’t be a departed soul, laying in a coffin out of heartbeats to purchase time; use the minutes you have preciously and create everything you feel strong enough about and don’t ever stop the process of getting it. Burn like a reckless uncontrollable fire that cannot be slowed by the elements of society and what it expects of you. Live life with contagious love and inspire those around you to do the same.

Happy New Year.

C.f

Hey you, reading this, care to do me a favour? Or more importantly, yourself one?

Self Portrait

Look into a mirror, and beyond the beautiful face that looks back at you, and it’s deep endless stare, I want you to scream/yell/lose yourself in a random act of rage. As loud and as hard as you can. If you feel shy, do it into a pillow. Get everything normal out, with one crazy insane out-of-your-mind lunatic scream. Just because.

It is so often encouraged and taught in society, that we must do things a certain way. We must act accordingly. Get a job, buy a house, get married, have kids. Social norms that are pushed upon you by your parents/government/teacher/peers. It’s a safe option.

It’s complacency, and it’s killing you.

Do you even know what you want? I don’t. But I know what makes me happy. And you probably do too. So do those things instead. It’s simple, and still it goes over the head of so many people. I don’t know how many individuals I know now, that as they’ve grown up a little bit, forget that they can actually do ANYTHING. The complacency of accepting how your life is, is killing you. Just do what makes you happy, and always chase that feeling of progressively achieving it. Sure, sacrifices will need to happen. But that doesn’t mean your entire life. Just moments, which contribute to achieving a result.

Im sorry if I’ve offended you, but seeing as so many people actually listen to these routines and life goals placed upon your head like a hat, I think it’s almost equally important to find people to tell you NOT to follow them and encourage you for doing so. Just do things for yourself, make yourself happy. Hey I know you probably shouldn’t spend money on lunch or a little treat, but will it make your day better? Do it.

The smartest person I’ve ever met, told me that success = happiness, and it changed everything for me. At the end of the day, we all have a picture in our heads of what our life could turn out to be like, and how awesome it would be, and how we hope it will just kind of happen, maybe even overnight. Crazy enough, It can be done, maybe not overnight, but it can actually exist. Other people have done it, so you can too. Just don’t give in to a complacent sense of direction, taking you down a safe-highway which will end up leading into the darkness of a wasted life and opportunity. That picture in your mind is real, you just have to get there. Picasso said “Everything you can imagine is real“. Don’t think about the money, or your parents preference, or necessarily the smartest option. Do what makes you happy, and do it right now. Scream the complacent self out of your outfits, and replace it with a person who chooses what makes them happy every day. Time spent waiting, is time wasted.

“Happiness consists in realizing it is all a great strange dream” 

– Jack Kerouac

It’s time to wake up.

C.f

“How do you know when you’re finished?”

“How do you know when you’re finished making love?”

– Jackson Pollock

What a beautiful theory.

C.f