Making it up as I go along

picture by NickPiggot

Six months ago I undertook The Artists Way course in creativity, with an element of cynicism, I confess.  I had no idea that it would change my life so significantly.  Returning to university to study creative writing - something I would once have found much too airy-fairy to consider - was definitely not on my agenda back then.  Neither were piano lessons.  At the time both were little more than impulse decisions.  Where did all this spontaneity come from, I wonder?

I also challenged myself by getting back on a motorbike, which had been a passion of mine pre-children, and found that I can still do it, and love it and thrive on the adrenaline.  What a surprise!

After taking myself so seriously all these years, raising my kids and writing letters to the editor and drafting articles on parenting, among other things, here I am suddenly writing fiction, and discovering that I can spin a yarn and turn a phrase and find such enormous satisfaction in the process of it.   Who woulda thought!  Certainly not me.

And yet I don’t think I could have given myself permission to do this any sooner than I have.  Fiction-writing is a revelation to me, a journey, and probably the purest form of escapism there is.  And six months ago, I had no idea that I could even do it, or that I even wanted to do it.

So now we’re half way through semester and I’ve written two short stories and begun a modern romance novel - purely for learning purposes, mind, I have no delusions about publishing at this stage - but what a buzz!  I’ve never had so much fun in my life.*

*Gross generalisation, ‘cos I’m certain I have, just not in the world of my own imagination.  Or at least, not without the assistance of some other substance I’d best not give detail about in this blog.

August 21st, 2009 - Posted in personal growth, gratitude, happiness, nostalgia, play | | 1 Comments

On giving advice

picture by laughlin

“… I gave this person some advice, but now I wish I hadn’t.  Why?  Because  even if I had the chance, I wouldn’t go back and give myself advice….  I’m now questioning the validity (and ethics) of writing advice for Mamas at all….”

I’m growing to love Dan Sinclair’s, Mama Magic.  For a blog inspired by the system of astrology, which sits on the wrong side of my scepticism, I think we share a similar outlook in a lot of ways.

I remember all the unsolicited advice, some good, some not, that I received before my first baby was born.  Sleep when your baby sleeps, look after yourself, ask for help when you need it, yada yada.  I didn’t follow any of it.  Why didn’t I follow any of it?

See, this is interesting to me because many of my readers, it would seem, know me through various online forums which are a cesspool of advice-seeking and advice-giving and opinionated discussion.  Good stuff!  I’ve surely given my fair share of advice over the years, in most cases not really knowing or caring whether the asker had followed my advice.  It simply gave me a buzz to offer it.

So it would appear that giving advice is more about me than about them.  And it would also appear that, since even good advice is not often followed, that offering advice at all is quite a futile and possibly even insulting undertaking.

Did I really mean insulting?  Yes, I did.  Because no matter how well-intentioned the advice may be, it assumes that the recipient does not possess the resources to find a solution to a problem by him or herself.  It’s that old adage about giving a man a fish VS teaching a man to fish.  I can offer all the content-knowledge in the world, but it’s of no value to you unless I show you the process of applying it.

So it all comes back to modelling behaviour or walking our talk - which is so much harder to do than all that talking.  Enough talking from me for now.  Please tell me about how you respond when someone gives you advice.

August 17th, 2009 - Posted in community, duty of care, sustainability, wisdom | | 2 Comments

Out of the mouths of babes #4

picture by cupcake_s

Somehow, the word teenager has entered the family vocabulary, presumably through older brother and sister, though I can’t recall.  Miss 3 is the keenest on the new word.  Practising often.

I have been minding my neighbour’s Miss 3 four mornings a week for the past couple of weeks.  Our Miss 3s are regular playmates who walk around together giggling, hand in hand, when they’re not rehearsing their girlie squabbles.  We discovered that a previous obsession with the word darlin’  - not darling but darlin’ - was a convenient substitute for all courtship and partnership words eg, husband/wife, boy/girlfriend etc.  The word was exported to our neighbour’s family via their Miss 3 and I had to explain the origins of darlin’ to them.

Now hubby and I are hanging out in the kitchen making coffee and listening to the conversation at the girls’ lunch table.  It’s a spirited cycle of one-up manship using the word teenager.

“You’ll have to wait until you’re a teenager.”

“Uh-uh, I won’t.”

“Yes you will.”

“No I won’t.”

“Well, when I’m a teenager I’m going to drive a car.”

“Well, when I’m a teenager I’m going to have a baby.”

Hubby and I exchange The Look and he gives me this quizzical, humorously half-worried glance after the last line.  Feigning ignorance I ask,

“Mira, what’s a teenager?”

Miss 3 replies, “C’mon Mum, you know what a teenager is!”

She sure seems to know what a teenager is.

“Yeah, you know what a teenager is,” comes her echo.

Surprised by her precocious response I say, “No I don’t.  What’s a teenager?”

“Yeah,” hubby pipes in, visibly intrigued. “What’s a teenager, hey?”

She raises both hands to point at us.  “It’s you guys!  You guys are teenagers!”

“You guys!” echos her friend and returning to their conversation she asserts to Miss 3, “They’re teenagers, hey.”

Hubby and I gag on our coffees.  I think of Sandy and Danny in the movie Grease and remember all the other teenage movies I’ve ever seen with very adult actors.    Yeah, sure we’re teenagers.  Anyway, I’m thankful that at very least, our inner-teenagers are still recognisable to us.

Remembering darlin’, dear neighbour asked me today where the word teenager came from as it has been exported to her house.  Listening to her Miss 3 and her older sons adopt it is driving her mad.  I wasn’t sure whether to recount the above story for her or not.

August 1st, 2009 - Posted in gratitude, childhood, parenthood, play | | 3 Comments

First blip on the radar

picture by UCB Library Graphics

It’s end of week 2 at uni and I’ve begun writing a short story and finished reading one entire novel.  I’ve even made a few student acquaintances.  So far so good.

But I think I’ve just made my first uni blunder.  I’m officially the over-zealous, opinionated, mature age student.  I probably talk too much.  It’s possible I might get on others’ nerves.  Plus, I’ve already asked a minor favour of my tutor, who plainly stated he’ll let me know if I impose on his time.

And in this information age, I’m realising that taking notes in class is quite redundant when all lectures are multi-media and all power point screens, not to mention most of the required reading, are able to be accessed over the student intra-net.  No more having to borrow notes from a friend if a lecture is missed.  No more running to the library to photocopy articles or be waitlisted for books and journals.  I’ve just submitted my first small assessment piece - yep, by uploading the file to our student bullitin board or ‘virtual blackboard’.  Technology has changed the way we study and learn forever.  I’m having to figure out how to be a student all over again.

August 1st, 2009 - Posted in nostalgia, play, community, sustainability, wisdom | | 5 Comments