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Listen.

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Do you ever just listen to the organ at the beginning of some songs? Do you ever listen to that humming, melodic synthesizer and close your eyes to think about life?

Listen to it now…

Sometimes it’s the silence that inspires, the wordless that motivates, and the simplicity of fading into oblivion that breaks us down.

Do you hear the nothingness that surrounds us? The endlessness of everything?

What happens to the blackhole that is my soul? My emotional eradication?

Will I sink below the waves or walk upon the waters? They appear calm and yet twist into ugly subways made only for those with gills.

Why do we dream of the apocalyptic desolation? Are we walking blackholes, sucking up everything in a determination to destroy?

Can this really be it? Does everything we work for end up being an epiphany of foolishness?

I wander…

yet I wonder…

Do you hear that melodic synthesizer humming to your heartsong?

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Running Around Christmas

I wasn’t going to update until after the holidays, but something happened that I needed to share. My husband and I were talking about how Christmas has changed for us since moving away from family. We shared what Christmas was like for each other as kids. (It was different, because we are from different countries.) This will be our third Christmas in the land Down Under and it never quite felt like Christmas to me. I thought about this and wondered why, or if I was just spoilt by my childhood and the ‘magic’ of Christmas. As an adult, studying and working, Christmas just passed by last year for me and it upset me deeply. I didn’t want that to happen this year, so I tried to get all my work done early and requested a few days off from work.

As Christmas started to settle in my heart and around me (even though I am use to white Christmases), I realized what was wrong with Christmas as an adult. It hit me when I went to a cafe today just to sit, have a coffee, and read a book. I sat at the cafe for about an hour and then got up to pay at the counter. The two girls working greeted me nicely (as always) and commented how refreshing it was to see me just sitting in there, reading, not rushing around and panicking about Christmas and gifts and food, etc. I may have given them a funny look and then I replied, “Christmas is about taking time.”

That’s when it hit me. The words just came out of my mouth. What my subconscious had known, the rest of me was just beginning to realize. That is what Christmas is about: taking time. Time for family, time for relaxing, time for you, time for others, time for singing, time for snowmen, time for elves on the shelves, time for decorating, time for lights, time for silliness, time to not be an adult and time to believe.

Christmas is believing. If we get caught up in the presents and shopping and cooking and running around, then we miss the whole point of Christmas. It becomes a chore, a stress, not a holiday. Most people I talk to tell me that this is their most stressful time of year. Their real ‘holiday’ is when they go on vacation for a week somewhere tropical. Why does it have to be that way? It doesn’t. Most people are just missing the point of Christmas. Christmas is a holiday, and you must be the one to make it that way. It is so easy to get caught up in everything around Christmas, but please try not to become stressed. Just don’t worry about it as much. Is Christmas going to be less special if your apple pie isn’t perfect? Will the kids remember what type of wrapping paper you put on their gifts? Will your mother-in-law criticize your souffle throughout the entire new year? No! (Well, maybe the last one.)

So enjoy the holiday. Enjoy taking time. Enjoy the belief that Christmas is more than what we get or what we eat. Believe.

Merry Christmas to all!

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Posted by on December 24, 2013 in Holidays, World Problems

 

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As a little girl, and one of the few girls within my large family, I was constantly pressured (indirectly most of the time) to be a ‘girl’. What did this mean? It meant playing with dolls, having tea parties, wearing dresses, and liking pink. Not only was I the exact opposite, but I felt, at times, that everyone expected girls to be ‘girly’. I never wore dresses; I wore jeans and t-shirts. I never played with dolls; I played with Jurassic Park action figures and army men. I never liked pink; I am passionate for blue. Did this make me a tomboy, then? Perhaps. I played sports and enjoyed getting dirty. I played games with the neighborhood boys, like tag and spies. I liked building things and being a ‘grease monkey’ with my brother and dad. I considered myself a tomboy, only because it was the only word I knew to describe a non-girly girl.

But now I want to change that word. I am a girl. Girls are not all the same and should not be classified as such. Just because a girl doesn’t like certain ‘girly’ things doesn’t mean she will be less successful in life. It doesn’t mean that she won’t get married and have children. It’s not the 1950’s. I am a scientist, a bassist, an engineer, a writer, a wife, a cook, a gamer… and I am most certainly a GIRL. Girls do not fit into one category, just like boys do not all play football.

So embrace the girl you are or the girl you have, because every girl is unique.

Girls Just Wanna Be Girls

 
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Posted by on November 21, 2013 in Stream of Consciousness, World Problems

 

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Judging Judgment

Whether you’re religious or not, I think we all can agree that judgment of one human being from another is cruel. We all do it. It’s almost natural, but I believe that we can train ourselves to remember that perhaps there is more than we see. Even if our initial thought is something ugly, maybe we can stop our thought process and change it to a more positive one. Judging is ugly, and is even more despicable because it’s a part of our society. Why do we judge others? Why do we wish bad thoughts on those we know? Or, perhaps the ultimate question is: 

Why is human nature so ugly?

 
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Posted by on March 10, 2013 in Unknown to this World

 

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Dog.

            That is what they called her as they threw stones. Heinous laughter filled her ears and she vomited onto her ragged clothes. They dared to move closer, but gagged from the smell of her nappy hair.
            She didn’t blame them, but accepted the stones that hurt. Her fate had been sealed from birth and she was tired of waiting. Neither tears nor laughter reached her throat. She was indifferent. The stones stopped hitting her for a moment, letting her take a normal breath. They had run out of rocks. There were a few seconds when she could almost feel peace, but the blood sliding down her arm pulled her back into reality. She stared at the crimson line, following the path it chose over the ripples of her skin.
            The red line raced over her elbow and dripped onto her yellow and brown dress. Her dress hung on her body like an oversized blanket, too thin for warmth. A small boy ran and shoved her. Her face hit the dirt. The boy kicked her in the ribs and on the head. She heard screams of encouragement as she felt more join the boy. They found more rocks as they continued to beat her into the dust.
            She thought of trees as blood trickled down her cheek. She used to run through the fields full of switchgrass and marvel at the vast forest. The trees never ended, but stood firm like guardians. Silent, they watched her play as a child, but she feared to go near them or cross their borders. She thought it silly now, as she pictured those green sentinels. She wondered if her life would have been different if she had passed by those guards and wandered into the unknown.
            She started to feel numb as the stoning continued. Her back and arms did not feel as they once had. A cool breeze lifted her eyes to the ones who despised her, filling their nostrils with the approach of death. She smiled as the trees remained in her memory, never glancing back as she looked up at her protectors and passed through them.
 
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Posted by on December 18, 2012 in Writing

 

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Pocket of Dynamite

I am finding humor in my current situation. I have been vaguely aware throughout my life that my presence attracts attention. I thought in my naiveté that this was normal and happened to everyone. Then I travelled to Colombia by myself and realized many stares coming my way, but I assumed it was due to my hair and eye color. Then I travelled to Australia, thinking it would be similar to my home country. I started my doctorate degree and the moment I stepped into my share office, I realized I was (firstly) the only female and (secondly) the only white person. Don’t get me wrong, I love being among different cultures and learning from a plethora of persons. It’s how it should be in the world.

However, something interesting happened to me today. I became aware that I am a sort of anomaly among my peers. I was approached by another student, whom I have never seen, on the public transport and he knew who I was. “Are you the PhD student in Aerospace? I have seen you around.” I am quiet on campus so I can understand how I may seem a mystery. We started talking and he was surprised by my age (which I get a lot). Then we parted ways and a thought occurred to me: everyone was talking about me!

“Have you seen the American girl? She is doing her PhD here.”

I have become the talk of the offices and had not even realized. I am now this mysterious little white girl who must be intelligent because she is so young and doing her doctorate. Honestly, most of the time I don’t know what I’m doing and am just trying to keep my head above water. I believe this to be truth to most people.

This brought a smile to my face today, thinking that other people are getting enjoyment through me. I am not intimidated by much and therefore can seem very driven, but that is because I love living with no regrets and try everything at least once. Afterall, we only have one chance at life.

*As a side note, I am told that I am a great public speaker and was recently introduced to an audience as a ‘pocket of dynamite’ and to not be fooled by my size.

 

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