I love today’s, actually it’s yesterday’s Daily Prompt – quirks, the ones you love and the ones that you loathe. I love it because I myself am a bundle of quirks that at times leaves others smiling condescendingly. See the thing is, over the past few years I’ve come to a place where I accept and love the quirky things that come with the Sara package. When we can embrace our quirkiness instead of hiding it, wonderful things happen. We find others our own kind of quirky.
One of my hobbies/quirky attributes is my love of knitting, crochet and craft in general. Some think it’s quaint, old fashioned but definitely a quirk. Find some other crafters and you end up with a thriving craft group that meets once a month. True story. My heart sings when I gather with people who are the crafty kind of quirky.
Then there’s the quirky interests/fascinations/obsessions, ones that truly reveal that I never want to grow up. Superman is one of them, I love Superman so much that I wear these shoes. I also love Superman so much that some of my little friend’s also love Superman. Yes, one little friend also has Superman shoes. We’re pretty cool.
There’s many other quirks to add to my quirkiness: feeling the texture of clothes when I’m shopping; humming in public; talking to myself; my fascination with medical dramas and medical stuff in general which then leads to panic if I cough funny and my strange ability to either chat with anyone or absolute social awkwardness. I’ll stop now, this could take a while.
I guess the point of it all, my post on quirkiness, is that we all have them. Don’t hide who you are (unless you can’t use their/there/they’re or his/he’s properly, then change that. It’s one of my frustrating quirks – the grammar police within me). To finish, I’ll leave you with a thought from one of my favourite authors.
“Today you are you! That is truer than true! There is no one alive who is you-er than you!”
Thoughts are a constant flow. Mostly a steadily flowing river and at times a torrential downpour. Cyclone like thought conditions prevail at times also. It can be difficult with a head full of thoughts to actually make head and tail of them. At first this was to be a photo of my shower head, or perhaps my pillow. Both are places where thoughts are made. I thought about it some more. These are places of inspiration and clear thinking and yet there is a better place.
When I smell the scent of salt water something within me becomes instantly alive and yet calm. Sitting on the beach surrounded by the hustle and bustle of people is where my mind slows down. Walking through the water my thoughts slow down enough to make sense of them. When the cyclone hits, it’s the safety of the beach that I seek out. It is the beach where my thoughts are made.
Daily Prompt: Simply the Best
During my recent mini trip to Sydney I visited Madame Tussauds and entered a whole other world. I expected the exhibition to be mostly a spectator sport and had thought that my little friend Levi would find it boring. I was looking after him as his parents were working in Sydney and so my two days were focussed on fun times for him.
I found instead that it was quite interactive and I was actually disappointed that I’d timed the visit for little Levi’s nap time. He was awake for the beginning but too tired to fully enjoy pretending to be a pirate on a ship or a pilot taking off. He actually got distressed when I hopped in the “plane” and waved goodbye. (Note to self: 2.5 year olds sometimes find it difficult to differentiate between real and pretend).
As I wandered through there was plenty of opportunity to take photos with the “celebrities”. I had my fancy pants camera and had a great time snapping lots of photos, lost in the details of a man made wax likeness. Some were uncanny in their life likeness, I had moments of thinking there were people in my peripheral vision only to turn and realise it was a wax figure. I couldn’t take full advantage of the props and photo opportunities as I was on my own. Levi can work a camera quite well, but he was sleeping soundly in his stroller soon after arriving. I don’t like others using my camera anyway. I couldn’t help but chase someone down to take a photo of myself with one of my heroes though.
Hot, bothered and having a bad hair day I had to have a photo with Albert Einstein. Misunderstood by so many he continued to explore and share his knowledge. If he’d been afraid and shut down because he was different, he wouldn’t have changed the world. He inspires me to keep sharing who I am with the world rather than my introvert inclination to close up. What an amazing man and this is the closest that I’ll ever come to meeting him.
Part of the exhibition details the process taken to make a wax model. It is intense! I won’t repeat it all as you can read about it here . One of my favorites was Queen Elizabeth. Her wax model captures not only her likeness but her dignity and grace. It truly was a captivating time of becoming lost in the details.
I had a whirlwind trip to Sydney and am catching up with my photo challenges. Sydney is such a fascinating city, it’s old and new all rolled into one. Kind of like Hobart but much, much bigger. I spent two days looking after my little friend Levi while his parents were there for work. We had great fun in Darling Harbor, visiting the aquarium and Madame Tussaud’s and a few other activities.
It was an interesting place to think about the a photo for the word “Forward”. A place that like Hobart, carries a deep history of our nation. I didn’t get time to explore much of the history of Sydney but from the magnificent old buildings and my glimpses of the Australian Maritime Museum, you know that Sydney has many old stories to tell.
As little Levi ran across the Pyrmont Bridge in Darling Harbor, I snapped this picture. A little boy running forward, surrounded by the old and the new. A little boy with his life in front of him.
The beauty of who we are is there is no one else that is like us.
The beauty of God is that He created each of us.
He knows each of us down to the tips of our fingertips and the tips of our toes.
The piece of metal that kept a man in solitary confinement.
There was a day that I explored buildings that were old and worn. I studied Richmond Gaol in Tasmania, a little town that is one of the oldest I’ve ever visited. The gaol is one of the best preserved and oldest standing convict gaol’s in Australia. I discovered the section marked “Men’s Solitary”. People were wandering through other parts of the gaol, I could hear their voices carried by the wind. I stood in one of the solitary cells, studying the worn wood, the floor that heads would have lain on and the lock that held them in. I stood almost alone in these empty walls and yet they felt full. They hold memories within their enclosed walls that is beyond my comprehension.
In the walls of that cell, a man would have known hunger.
There has always been food on my plate.
Men would have known pain.
I have never known violence.
Men would have known fear.
I have always been safe.
The men that were locked here were rejected, criminilised and treated like animals for crimes. Some meagre.
I have always known love.
It was the lock that fascinated me. Simple, crude, strong. Men inside this solitary cell would have sat dreaming of the world beyond the lock. Dreaming of a life beyond the walls of their prison. As I studied the cell, snapping details of wood and locks, I wondered. Questions filled my mind from the simple to the deep.
How did they sleep on nothing but a wooden floor?
Did they have a bucket to do their business?
Did they talk to each other through the walls? (I guess not – it was solitary confinement after all).
What were their crimes? Stealing bread to survive? Violence amongst the other prisoners? Bushrangers? Murders? Rapes?
Did they come from the UK?
Were they born from other convicts born here a generation before?
What did they think about in the long hours (Weeks? Months? Years?) alone?
Did some give up and die on the inside?
Did others fight until the end?
In the darkness did they pray?
Alone in the darkness did they know the light of God?
Whatever the answers to all of my questions, I know one thing. Our land of Australia was built on the backs of these prisoners. Blood, sweat, tears, pain, years of labour to build and reap harvests. The life I know now is greatly due to the men and woman beyond this time and deep in our past. I can not comprehend much about the prisoners of Richmond Gaol, but I deeply honour and respect them all.
Resolved. Having made a decision, I have set my mind to a task. The resolutions we make are the choices we make to make our life better. There’s so many jokes going around about New Years Resolutions not being met. They’re funny I must admit, yet at the start of each year I have that firm belief that it is a precious moment to move from. A chance to start again, a fresh slate. A change in digits can signify new beginnings.
I’ve been on a mad clear out at work and less so at home. My housemate laughed and said it must be my Scottish blood – not sure that I have any by the way. Other friends told me of their Scottish Mother who would clean the house from top to bottom before the first of January each year. It had to be done! Including the fire put out and the hearth cleaned, in the midst of winter while the snow lay on the ground. Brrr!!
What’s all this mean for me? I have two resolutions – to take better care of myself. That’s a boring but profound one that I may share another day. The other is to write. Blog, short stories, kids stories, novels, journals, letters, emails… I will write until I can write no more. As a child I would write for hours and hours. When I write my brain processes stuff, it creates and grinds away. I love to think and by writing I will constantly think and ponder. Writing makes my spirit soar. I fell into a groove of writing in 2012, blogging and started a novel in the NaNoWriMo in November. This is one of my favorite achievements of this past 12 months, of reclaiming my dreams to write and create. I have loved writing my other blog A Flutterby In Stitches, in which I share my knitting and now crochet projects. It started as a motivator to finish some projects and now I am enjoying sharing mine and other’s progress.
At the ending of one year and the beginning of the other, I will take this opportunity to urge myself forward. To clear out clutter in mind, spirit and my room.
Do you think resolutions are a joke? What are you resolved about?
p.s The lovely journal in the picture was a Christmas gift from my parents. It’s stunning! The pen is hand carved from Tasmanian wood. I bought it whilst on holiday there.