28 January 2017 marked the first day of the Lunar New Year. As many families heralded the Year of the Rooster with bountiful feasts, I tucked into a feast of a different kind (and granted a few of my poultry friends a well-deserved reprieve). With the new year came the decision to give a fresh lease of life to those lacklustre household items; and the great recycling project began…
I stalk a number of weird and wonderful bloggers out there, quite shamelessly I might add. Whilst their blogs provide endless hours of laugh-out-loud entertainment value, it does make me wallow in self-pity at my own clinical, sanitised and generally abysmal attempt at entertainment, and I wonder what the heck those kindly folks could possibly see in me.
So today I am going rogue, all in the pursuit of some dark, cool, funky ambience which might not be readily identifiable as my style. That is because – wait for it – I’m a closet karaoke singer… Luxuriating in delusions of grandeur, I spent my first twenty years prowling the night scene and prancing around in drunken dens. Recently I returned to where it all started, chasing nothing but the shadows of my dreams.
Have you ever read a book that spoke right to your heart, just when you needed to hear it most? Have you ever wanted to scream and shout in excitement that surely it must have been written to you?
For me, Quiet by Susan Cain is one such book.
In a world where the only constant is change, the self-help industry has thrived on our anxieties, fears and insecurities, backed by a plethora of books advocating change. With titles such as How to Win Friends and Influence People; Awaken the Giant Within or The Success Principles: How to Get from Where You Are to Where You Want to Be, it is no wonder that we are constantly questioning whether we are ever good enough. It is refreshing, then, to chance upon a book that teaches us to appreciate the value of just…being ourselves.
Many of the blogs I follow are based in the northern hemisphere, where the air seemed to be abundant with festivities of the Christmas markets at this time of the year, not to mention all that snow. Whilst it is highly lamentable that we shall never have a white Christmas in our part of the world, the classic long summer days with endless possibilities for great outdoor retreats make me happy indeed to call Australia home.
I like my seas; but I’m drawn to my mountains. There have been studies done – personality studies of sorts – to determine who you are by the degree of your affinity with mountains or the seas. There are no prizes there for guessing where my heart belonged. And the verdict? Well, apparently mountains are an introvert’s best friend.
The Window, The Door & The Teacup
I have lost all track of time as I am sitting here, immersed in my thoughts, of nothing in particular and yet everything at once. I suppose that’s inevitable when you decide to take stock; you are quickly besieged by the unceremonious merger of thoughts from near and afar, the rapid coagulation of moments with years. A reflexive check of the time reveals it to be 11.25pm, 20 December 2016. And as I am about to press the “Publish” button to what will be my 30th post, I cannot help but feel the faint flutters of relief (of how far it has come) and hope (of how far it can go).
I am not sure about you, but I have often wondered about the Writer labouring behind the façade of their impeccably crafted blogs. Their stories never fail to intrigue me. Their lives a reflection of what I aim to achieve for myself one day. So, as for my year-end review (a loose term, of course), I will offer an insight into the Jolene behind SoMuchToTellYou.
We all have our “comfort” shots – those we cling to when all else seems to fail – whether they be landscapes, objects in motion, portraits or macros. For me, I have discovered an affinity with Lego photography (which you may have stumbled across elsewhere in my blog), and landscapes that feature one of the only constants in life. Under its rays I feel a heightened sense of emancipation and anticipation. And admittedly, a good dose of nostalgia, too…
I fell in love with you the moment I cradled you in my arms. A feisty, bawling bundle of joy. You cried incessantly, at all hours of the day and night, but the nook of my arms seemed to bring you solace, and in return, that impish smile of yours would shine straight to my heart.
You lit up our otherwise unadorned home, every corner of it bearing witness to your ever-enlarging presence and our moments of mirth and laughter together. “Dada”, you’d call, and I would at once drop on my hands and knees and wholeheartedly welcome the commands of my almighty princess. Oh, how you knew your place in my world…