The Many Colours of Happiness

Now I know that I have been a terrible blogger as of the last six months; hell, this may be the last blog post that I ever write for all I know. But there is something about the New Year that brings all of us slack blogger types out of the woodwork. It makes as all a little melancholy, a little contemplative; ready to reassess our lives and make plans for the future. I can’t stop thinking about who I was a year ago at this exact time. I was so naïve and so young. And so very unhappy. Despite the fact that I was in Europe with my love and my wonderful friends and family just a Skype call away (and we did indeed Skype many times), I was so dissatisfied with myself and my life. But on New Year’s Day I was feeling so positive. I had a little notebook filled with all of my resolutions and goals. Filled with all of the things I was going to change about my life and all of the things that I was going to change about myself. I was going to follow my dreams and finally make my way in the...

As part of my course, I was required to read a lecture from personal essayist Robert Dessaix. While the whole thing was interesting, I particularly liked when he started talking about the idea of having to be ‘busy’, and how we are missing out on so much of life because of it. He said that when people asked him if he was busy, he always answered, to their complete surprise and quite often, disapproval: “No.” And this really stuck with me. There is this idea that we have to be using every second as productively as possible, that we should be working and studying and fitting in as much as we can, that to see someone not follow this path seems almost offensive. One of my friends decided to simply focus on her studies this semester, letting her boyfriend support her while she finishes up her degree. And while I hate to admit, we all did judge her a bit because of this.  After all, she had all of this free time . And free time, as you know, is lazy. It’s unproduc...

I am feeling very optimistic today. Back story:  I have a habit of deciding on something and then wanting it to happen right that second . It’s like with my previous degrees. I don’t like it? BOOM I dropped it. I want to start doing my Masters even though I’m already doing a degree and I don’t have the freaking time? SIGN ME UP. I decide that I haven’t been social enough this week even though all of my assignments are due and I have had maybe two hours sleep in three days? Break out the wine baby, I’m inviting the girls around. I’m not a patient person at the best of times and it turns out I’m much worse when it comes to full time job hunting. On May the 31 st I started putting in applications. And by putting in applications I mean I have put in over fifty. That is not an exaggeration- my life has literally been writing essays about how awesome and talented I am in the hopes of fooling prospective employers. By June the 2 nd I was in the depths of despair....

I haven’t ever wanted kids. Not even when I was younger, when everyone around me was either a child themselves or a parent and I assumed that all women had to have them. Because every tantrum, every complaint that ‘so and so got more than me’, every ‘I hate you mum’ that came out of my young mouth, made me even more certain that I never wanted to be a mother. My plan until I entered year seven was to marry someone that loved kids, and make the husband and children all live in a different house to me. The husband could visit on weekends, and I would see the kids on their birthdays. But in year seven I met a very street-wise girl who informed that I didn’t actually have to have children. You can’t even imagine the relief. It was like all my dreams had been answered. In fact, I would go so far as to say they had been. What she didn’t tell me was how other people would react to a girl that didn’t want to procreate. It was fine when I was younger. They would laugh, mess up my hair...

I read this lovely little zine called ‘ Spoonful: A Happiness Companion’ that is…well it’s a happiness companion. It features quirky poems about happiness, well-written stories about appreciating every day things, and, my favourite, a section about celebrating failure. In it, people write what their biggest failure was and what they learned from it. Since I like the idea so much, I decided to do my own today. Firstly I would just like to point out that this isn’t my biggest failure. Being awkward, uncoordinated and impatient has led to quite a few failures in my twenty four years, not the least being dropping out of not one, but two degrees (yes, you read that right) with less than six months to go. But one thing I have noticed in the zine, and in my own experiences, is that it’s the little things that can really break you. Things that are absolutely no big deal can seem like the most important thing in the universe for reasons that no one else could possibly understand (and whic...

I know that I said I would be away for six months, but since my last post things have changed. Or rather, I changed things. I guess I just got sick of living my life based on expectations of myself that were, for lack of a better word, stupid. Boy oh boy were they stupid. Here was I, the least practical person on the planet with no commonsense and a bad habit of daydreaming at the most inconvenient moments, studying TEACHING. Apparently you need common-sense and an attention span better than that of a goldfish to teach the new generation. Who knew? So half-way through the semester, with six months to go, I dropped out. I realised that the only reason I stayed with it for so long was because of fear. I was scared of venturing from the nice, safe, career-orientated practical , to the uncertain and risky creative . But I’m NOT practical. I am a creative dreamer without a shred of common sense and realism in my body. Unfortunately creative isn’t safe. Creative leads to degrees and ...

This has been leading up for a while now, I'm sure none of you are surprised, but I will be taking a six month break from blogging. As silly as it sounds, starting this blog really did change my life. It gave me space to organise my thoughts, to understand the world and my life a little better, to meet amazing and inspiring people, plus it taught me just how dear words are to me. And it got me to start writing again, which is something that has sweetened every day and made anything seem possible. But my trip away gave me space and time to evaluate. I was so busy last year; I pushed myself so much to make the most of every second that I ended up dreaming and worrying the year away. This year I will be finishing my education degree as well as continuing on with my masters- so I will have five classes on the go at any one time, three full days of work, two days of prac- and in between dance class, performances, article and story writing, piano practice, yoga, visiting family, ti...

Hey guys, here is the last guest post and I couldn't have picked someone better (if I do say so myself). I have only known Vanisha's blog for a short time but I'm already hooked. It's funny, honest and there are always beautiful photos to drool over. PLUS she lives in Canberra and does a much better job of summing up my awesome home-town than I do. Enjoy! Hello! I'm Vanisha from Vanisha's In Life...Australia  Kaylia invited me to write a guest post whilst she's on her fabulous holiday! Being asked to write a guest post almost feels like being invited into someone's home. I'm honored. Kaylia said write about "anything" so I thought I'd write about an amazing trip I recently took.  A lot of people find it odd that of all places, we decided to got to Timor Lestse. Let me preface this decision a little. It all started in front of this fire place in the middle of winter in the Kangaroo Valley. Two acquaintances sat. Trying to get war...

This guest post is quite exciting for me, as Brandi was actually the reason I first started my blog. She was one of my first followers and has been such an inspiration throughout this whole process. On top of that she is the sweetest person ever and such a beautiful woman inside and out. Without further ado, here she is: Ritual I was so flattered when Kaylia asked me to guest post for her. You see, she's one of my favorite sources of inspiration and honesty on the great big blogosphere. I was sipping tea, trying to decide what to write and feeling more unsure of myself than ever. It's been a bit like that lately in my world. When moments like those overwhelm me, I stop what I'm doing and brew a pot of tea. The first cup is reflection, the second poured becomes evaluation, the remaining cups devoted to action. It's one of the best things I do for myself all day, the little ritual. There’s something wonderful about daily rituals – those little times during the...

Here is another guest post from a fabulous blogger; this time it's Deidre from Decoybetty. This blog is one of the funniest, most honest, most inspiring blog around (with the occasional dash of delicious recipes to boot). Check out her beautiful blog at www.decoybetty.com and you'll see why she is one of my all-time favourites. Guest post: When Kaylia asked me to write a guest post, I stared at the blank screen and the only things that came to mind is how every post that Kaylia writes, I read along going “Yes! Yes! Yes!”  This girl writes (albeit way more eloquently) what I’m thinking.  But you read her blog, you know how fabulous she is.   She recently wrote about the ‘anonymity’ of travel. I’m addicted to this feeling.  I’m an expat. I was born in America and got my first taste of Australia in the young adult book “Looking for Alibrandi” where a teenager skips school to hang out with a boy which is basically all the things I am not. I’d never skip school and I didn’t r...

Hey all, here is a guest post from one of my  favourite bloggers: Courtney from Vintch . I have been reading this lovely lady's blog for over a year and am so honoured to have her doing this guest post for me. You'll see once you read her beautiful writing why she has quickly become a must-read on so many people's lists. On finding her voice My mama hates mayonnaise and is not fond of hanging baskets. My dad has Dallas Cowboys pajama pants and a penchant for ranch dip. And I am their daughter. I slept one floor above them for 21 years, until the night before my wedding when I crawled into my twin bed and cried, my cheek warm against the cotton sheets, my hands wrapped around the cracked gold posts. I cried not because I was scared or nervous about the wedding, but because I would never again sleep there. Never again hang my feet off the side and onto the carpet. Never talk to my sister in the dark until we both fell asleep mid sentence. It was bittersweet and ...