Another post I wanted to share was very fitting because it was two years ago tomorrow. I have had a habit recently of finding old posts that were posted on or almost on the same date but years prior, coincidental to say the least. This post has given me inspiration for a post tomorrow which is great and look forward to sharing.
It is fascinating looking back to milestones I achieved in blogging, and I actually remember typing this post up and how happy I was at my achievement. What I have noticed is that I was as happy gaining my 500th follower as I was when I typed my last milestone post thanking 6,000 readers that have decided to join me on my journey. Like I have said, it isn’t the number but the growth that I love to see, and that so many people, whether it is 50, 500 or 6,000, are happy to engage with me and follow my blog. It really is appreciated.
I still can’t believe I managed to get The Proclaimers in there though…
From February 7th, 2017…
Drinks are on me.
So August was already off to a great start and then I noticed that I hit 500 followers this morning. Thank you to each and every one of you that has shown support and continue to do so daily. You know who you are!
If every one of you beautiful bloggers were to stand a mile apart, I would have a pretty long walk ahead of me to meet every one of you…. although oddly there is a high chance that you would then be much closer to me than you currently are, which is pretty cool to think.
And whilst I am on the topic of 500 miles, I have found this picture of Europe courtesy of moth dad on Twitter, showing where the The Proclaimers* would end up if they did indeed walk 500 miles, and then 500 more.
Are you in the dangerzone?!
*For anyone born after 2000 (especially outside of the UK), The Proclaimers were a band with a hit song about walking a thousand miles for the one they loved, we just don’t know the planned route. If you enter a British pub that is playing karaoke and this isn’t played, there is probably a glitch in the matrix.
Originally posted 08/02/2017
Thank you again to all my followers and regular readers, and hello to you if you are new to my blog!
This post is dedicated to someone I see every Friday at 2pm. I don’t ask to see her, but she is there. I don’t know why she is there, nor what is going through her mind when she arrives. It is a weekly reminder for me that the mind is one hell of a crazy place to be and despite sounding like something you would read in a novel, is entirely true.
After searching ‘lady’ on Unsplash, this is the image that I found to be most fitting to the post. I wouldn’t want to take an actual photo of the person I am about to write about, nor take photos of my workplace. The image above is very similar to what I see weekly and I am really eager to share this particular experience with my readers.
I started work exactly two months ago on September 11th. A place of work with fantastic views of Sydney Harbour. It is no surprise that we get many people walking by that pause for a moment for a photo opportunity or a little reflection. This is when I first met Princess, doing just that. She was standing there wearing a hat, gazing out of the window just above the stairs leading down to the quay. Wearing a red dress and showing no signs of distress or needing any kind of assistance, her back straight with good posture, gazing straight out to sea. Nothing strange about it, until the duty manager told me that this is what she does every Friday at 2pm. This is one part of her routine. I have since learned that every Friday she comes in from east side of the building (if you were viewing Sydney from a map) and stares out the window, a little further up from where I first saw her. She looks out over the harbour for about ten minutes, before moving down towards the staircase that takes you to the waterfront on the west side of the building. At this point she doesn’t immediately make a move downstairs, instead she gazes for another ten minutes out to the ocean. She then proceeds to make her way down the stairs and up towards the Opera House. What she does after this is unknown.
It might be a good time to tell you how we know her name. We don’t. It was a name that just stuck after some colleagues attempted to talk to her. If you try to talk to her, she walks away. She won’t leave the premises, she will just leave your presence. She doesn’t say a word during the 20-30 minute visit, however it is guaranteed she will be there again on Friday as she was yesterday. This visit is for some reason necessary for her. The same duty manager followed her one day out of the hotel, with a little distance as he was curious as to where she goes. This is how we found out the Opera House is her next destination. Unfortunately DM duties include being at the property at all times, meaning his time outside was very limited. This and the fact that it would be disrespectful to stalk someone that is seemingly of no harm. As far as I am aware no one else has tried to gain more answers, and despite it not being a big deal for most staff that know of her I would love to find out more with each and every Friday I am in the building.
How crazy. In her mind, she wakes up and then makes her way to our building. She then sticks to the same routine without fail and carries out her silent duties. Are we the first part of her journey? Is her whole day planned like this? Is the rest of her week spent with the same rituals in different establishments? So many questions can be asked here and it is a shame that I probably won’t be able to find out if she remains so reluctant to speak.
No matter where we go in life, the mind is probably the craziest place to be. Each and every one of our heads contains different logic and reasoning. We all have interests and desires, different daily rituals and routines. Then, there are people that vary much more in their behaviours, people that act in ways that we cannot understand despite trying our hardest. How many people lead similar lives in a city the size of Sydney? I am sure this one example is the tip of the iceberg.
As big as the bunch of keys is that is strapped to the waist of the duty manager, the one key we don’t have is the one to unlock such a mind. The most crazy and mysterious door of all.
Would you trust a condom on the bar? Seems a little risky to me.
At least they are being offered, it is refreshing to see people not freaking out about sex. Isn’t it strange that one of the most powerful forces we feel, sexual attraction, is one we are told to oppress and not talk about? Sex is one of our biggest desires however we have to pretend that it isn’t the case in professional environments and social circles. It is like we are acting as people that we actually aren’t, whether that is for better or worse would be a much longer post and one that I do not have the answer for. Of course I am not solely talking about sex, it just makes sense as I have a bowl of contraception under my nose as I have a beer.
I did talk about this briefly in my post Is Adulthood a Delusion? as I do find it fascinating to consider. Are we living a bigger lie than we are willing to accept, or is it a good thing that we have to leave some of our desires at the door? I am sure there are valid arguments for both.
I had a dream last night, thankfully a fun one. Often after waking up from such a dream I question the difference between reality and dreams. If I can smell and touch and run and feel, how different is it to being there in real life? I guess the only difference is we wake up and say ‘yeah, that wasn’t real’. But what if the day comes in which we wake from this one? It really isn’t much crazier to think.
In this dream I was at a festival called Lolapalooza, which is a real festival. So far my dream has fact checked with reality, a great start. It was set on a beach, the crowd pinned between the stage barriers and the crashing waves in warm temperatures. In the sea, a very long wooden float consisting of multiple floats to reach far out into the depths. On the horizon to the right (turning your head to 2 o’clock) a skyline of huge skyscrapers. To help with the scene, whilst I have my morning coffee I have created an incredibly realistic and in depth artists impression.
So there I was, watching the Foo Fighters (a band I have always wanted to see) at a place I cannot even remember buying tickets for. Or flying to. Or how the hell I afforded it. Not that I care when Dave Grohl was in front of me, I was in awe. Suddenly, he ran through the crowds and straight onto the float (a logistical nightmare come to think of it) and right to the very end of it being the rock star that he is.
There are a few reasons as to why I believe I had this dream. One, I watched the Foo Fighters on YouTube last night performing, rather bizarrely, ‘Never gonna give you up’ with Rick Astley on vocals. Once again, how can I be expected to believe this life is real with these kind of mash ups happening?
Secondly, whilst looking through photos yesterday to add to my blog, I found a picture from a Cage the Elephant gig I attended a couple years back. The photo isn’t great so I won’t upload it. However I also watched them perform live on YouTube earlier this month, the gig was at Lollapalooza Chicago. Maybe that was the skyline I was looking at, as Chicago does have a great one. This is the shot that I am thinking about. I remember trying really hard to get Dave in the shot whilst he was walking out over the sea with the skyscrapers in the background, a little similar to this one.
Maybe I have a desire to see the Foo Fighters in Chicago, I certainly wouldn’t turn that offer down.
I find it incredibly fascinating that our dreams are mysterious and always alternating. They are begging for a little detective work to be done when we first open our eyes and realise we weren’t actually there at the time. It is crazy that I don’t know my own dreams, and that I have to figure out what was meant in the dream used by the same brain used to type this post. Am I sharing this headspace? It seems so considering how little I know myself at times.
The thing with dreams is, unless it is a lucid dream (a whole other world) it is only after waking that we know we were asleep. When we are awake we can look back and analyse. We can stop in our tracks and consider reality and question everything around us… If we really want to in this limited time we have to do so.
Too many people don’t. I know that there are things I don’t question because I don’t know they are there to question. I know there are things that I don’t know that I don’t know. When I look around, there are plenty of people that seem to not question life at all. That are born, go to school, then university, then get a career, then marry and have kids, pay bills and worship every Sunday until one Sunday doesn’t come. Of course there is beauty in such a life, as long as that life wasn’t carried out because it was seen as a life we are expected to live, a huge checklist that we have to tick off to be considered ‘normal’ and accepted. Sometimes I start getting deep into a topic and get strange looks. As if the universe and the infinite capabilities with it are odd things to think about. Do you ever get the strange look or eye rolling when you bring up something you are passionate about, such as the afterlife or the nature of dreams, as if reality TV is the only thing you could mention that would pass as acceptable conversation? I have, and when I receive strange looks I imagine that I am talking about the real world to a North Korean. Receiving a confused look doesn’t mean your question was a bad one, but that you are expecting an answer from someone that didn’t realise there was even such a question in the first place.
If you do feel weird for having a passion for something outside of supposed ‘normality’ keep feeling weird, for nature is weird and the moment we stop thinking nature is weird, we have stopped looking.
What is desired more than quality? Trends. The need to be like everyone else instead of what’s suits us best. After all if trends change, they couldn’t have been that special anyway.
The easiest thing to do is fit in. Simply look at what is popular and buy it. Listen to what we are told is cool by apparant experts and give them our hard earned money.
I have just walked by this burger van near the Greys Monument in the city centre. It may in fact be the best burger I will ever have. But what I have learned is that for a queue to be this long, quality isn’t always in the recipe. It could be average, the thrill of being in the cool crowd overcompensating for mediocrity.
It is astounding how much money goes towards ‘keeping up to date’, another term for blending in with society. Why spend so much money on wanting to be unrecognisable? Another brick in the wall, another drop in the ocean living life with an aim to be accepted instead of glorifying personal strengths and interests.
Life is too short for that. The effort put into adhering to societal norms could be spent changing them for the better.
Once again, this burger van may not be a culprit, it was just the inspiration for my post. If the queue goes down, I may give it a try.
I find some people are unwilling to accept help or advice if it exposes a personal flaw. People are very reluctant to receive constructive criticism, rightly so if it is done in a condescending fashion.
I personally love my own flaws being exposed. That one moment and acknowledgement of imperfection helps me to become that little bit closer to perfection in whatever it was I was doing at the time.
Question. If you are reading a post, Facebook status or watching someone create an email in which they type ‘your’ instead of ‘you’re’ and you are with the author, would you tell them? I don’t think it is a bad thing to do so. If it is considerate and good willed, I don’t see the problem. The problem is so many people would rather shun the correction and try to preserve pride, although that pride is an illusion as people pretend there wasn’t a mistake in the first place.
I have just read a post by a very ambitious, highly driven person right before this post and thought I’d ask. There is no quicker way to success than getting help along the way. Accepting it costs nothing, but may be invaluable.
I see there is a big trend online for people to either pretend they are more stupid than they are, or boast about it.
I stumble (pun very much intended) upon images and memes all the time, people sharing them proudly to glorify how they should have been brought up with bubble wrap.
Why boast about being stupid or clumsy? I’m all for admitting flaws and that I am not the perfect person, it just seems a waste of valuable time to make sure the Internet knows my weaknesses instead of strengths. They don’t even have to be strengths, just something a little more optimistic and moral boosting.
It’s hard enough for us mortals to be heard and find a job that utilities our strengths, I am trying more than ever to use such opportunities as a boost and not a put-me-down.