top ten pictures from the week ~ 25 august 11

It's ludicrous...

[seen on small space style]

here it is...Thursday, again

[seen on luxe + lillies]

and I haven't posted anything since this time last week

[by janis nicolay pinecone camp]

how did that happen I hear you ask

[seen on the bottom of the ironing basket]

well...it's like this

[seen on my favorite and my best]

I've been away

[seen on the diversion project]

in Ballarat to be precise

[seen on my first little place]

for the photo biennale

[seen on this pretty space]

it was good...you should go

[seen on abigail ahern]

I'll try to be better with the whole posting frequency thing next week

[adore home seen on decorology]

provided I get my creative writing assignment in on time that is. What's that? I haven't told you about my course. Maybe next week :)

soul food friday ~ what labels do you give yourself?

Are you new to soul food fridays? It's where I get all philosophical on you. Buckle up and come along for the ride. And welcome.

here

Ever since I came back from Bali I've been writing. Short stories, random thoughts in pretty notebooks, ideas that inconveniently float into my mind while I'm in the shower, the first sentence of something or other that's yet to fully reveal itself. 

I said in this post that I'd found what I wanted to do. And what I want, more than I think I've wanted many things in my life, is to write. And yet, even though I'm writing, even though I'm more determined about this than a lifetime of other things I've tried, I still can't offer myself the label 'writer'. Not even after having coffee with a friend the other day who told me that at least 90% of my job is writing. Which is true. But it's not the right sort of writing if you know what I mean.

here

So I did the only sensible thing. I started to write about my reluctance to tattoo writer on my forehead. Here's a snippet from a piece I'm working on...

     I paint. But this doesn’t make me an artist. I garden. I plant and I prune and I dig but I’m hardly a gardener. I cook but I don't call myself a cook, much less a chef.  I take photos and some of them turn out quite well. I’ve managed to capture some lovely things through my camera but do I call myself a photographer? Do you call me that? Do you call me any of these things? No. And neither do I. Because I'm not paid to cook, garden or take photos. 

     This is why, although I write, I can’t name myself writer. I can't meet someone new, shake their hand and in response to the inevitable 'what do you do?' can't bring myself to say 'I write'. It’s a label that won’t stick. It slides easily off and away like the sticker on a jam jar that's been soaking in the sink for just the right amount of time.

It's fear isn't it? And now I think about it, most of the labels I've given myself don't earn me a living, apart from my business of course. I don't get paid to be a mum, partner, reader, rambler, friend. Of course I don't. In fact I'm usually the one doling out the dollars! But I do all these things, happily and willingly. I am all of these things. We do stuff we aren't paid for, lots of it, all the time. We do it because it's worthwhile, because we have to, because these things give us pleasure and hope and add meaning to our lives. Why should 'writer' be any different? 

... I've tried so many things. Tried, failed or just got bored. My failures laugh quietly at me from the corners of my home, stashed in cupboards, shoved under beds. Half done paintings, incomplete quilts, balls of yarn artfully resting in a wicker basket under an antique desk, with its barley twist legs and beautiful brass handles. Unfinished tapestries on wooden frames are shoved away at the end of this long brown desk I’m writing at now. Flung one day between it and the window they wag their bright woolly fingers at me. Psych degrees started and abandoned. Not just once, not even twice, but three times and that's it, you're out. And I wonder whether this thing called writing will end up stashed in a cupboard or somewhere on a forgotten thumb drive.

So, dear bloggy people, as my first step, over there in the about me section, I've snuck in 'writer' along with those other things I know I am. I can say it to you here in the safety of this blogging community. I know you'll get it. And even if you don't it doesn't matter, it still feels good. I'm keeping it.
Are you a bit like me? 
What are the labels that you'd love to shout out loud to the world but can't bring yourself to do just yet? 

top ten pictures from the week ~ 3 August 11

I've come to love the top ten

seen on belle maison

not just because it's a repository of pictures that take my fancy

seen on decorology

filed away where I can find them...a bit like my very own pinterest

seen on tiny white daisies tumblr

but I also get to tell you

seen on the design files; photographer paul barbera

in just a few lines

seen on pretty space tumblr

about some of the important things in my life

seen on design sponge

tucked in here among the pretty images of gorgeous homes and gardens.

seen on decorology

Like how this week I entered my very first short story writing competition

seen on bazaar of serendipity

I don't mind telling you...

seen on a perfect gray
I'm a little bit pleased with myself 

seen on greige

and I don't give a toss if it wins or not 

seen on dustjacket attic; photography by stefano corso

because my very clever and extremely well read children both love it. 

 And that's prize enough for me :)

handwriting...

I've been doing a lot of writing lately.  After my wonderful Bali experience, there seem to be an awful lot of first sentences for novels or short stories floating around on bits of paper, banged out in a random word document when the computer's up and running or typed haphazardly on the iPad if that's the closest thing to hand.

One thing I have been trying to do is my morning pages...three pages of handwritten stream of consciousness. Oh the drivel that sometimes comes out of the end of a pen onto lined paper in the early hours of the morning is something to behold. Or perhaps not :)

I use one of these lovely Christina Re journals that I won on Louise's blog

But it makes me think about handwriting. I like to write, provided I have the right pen. A fine nibbed ballpoint is the weapon of choice for me. Cheap pens from hotels I've stayed in seem to be the best for some bizarre reason. And my handwriting is not too shabby. Not fancy or anything. No clever embellishments, no swirls and twirls. But when I'm 'in the flow or the zone' or whatever it is, my writing looks pretty good. It too is fluid, languid, easy to do, and easy on the eye. I can also do a reasonable imitation of a type font when I put my mind to it. But that requires a different pen...and a whole lot more time!

But when I'm in a hurry or my thoughts are jagged, my writing takes that form on as well. Do you find that? Or is the art of handwriting just dead and buried, used only for shopping lists or by very well mannered people who write thank you notes? I hope not. There's such pleasure in reading something that's been lovingly written don't you think. 
I will leave you with the words of Norbet Platt...I don't know who he is or was.. not even google helped me with that..but I stumbled upon this quote yesterday and I like what he says. I think my morning pages are doing this for me.


"The act of putting pen to paper encourages pause for thought, this in turn makes us think more deeply about life, which helps us regain our equilibrium."


And speaking of equilibrium, thank you to everyone who left a comment, emailed or facebooked after my last post...you're very kind you lot. And while the zen may not be completely back it's certainly getting there. Some balance has been regained. And that's a very good thing. The top ten might even make it back next week at this rate :)
images 1 and 3 found on pinterest

top ten pictures from the week ~ 5 July 11

I hope you didn't think I'd given up these top ten posts. I haven't.

seen on from the right bank

I know you like them. I do too.

by janis, pinecone camp

But life's funny. It has a way of sneaking up, surprising you, and taking you in a different direction.

seen on a perfect gray

Case in point: I took three unread interiors magazines with me to the Writers' retreat in Bali (please note previously self confessed magazine addiction)

seen on belle maison

And I only discovered when I got home and unpacked, that they were right where I'd packed them in the bottom of the carry-on. Untouched.

seen on mfamb

I hadn't given them a thought. 

seen on savvy home 

And they're still unread. They've been dumped for Janette Turner Hospital (this week at least), my every day morning pages writing exercise a la Julia Cameron, and plotting and planning...

seen on adore magazine blog

I feel like I don't know myself any more...

seen on belclaire house

But I'm quite liking this new, focused, contented person.

seen on an indian summer

The  zen is still with me ;)

by pam, bayside rose

Who'd have thought!

1st option

back from bali...

Have you ever had a week so special that you don't quite know what to say about it?

That's how I feel about my time in Bali...although you probably wouldn't believe me if you'd been in my office yesterday where they couldn't shut me up about it!

I was doing a workshop called The Art and Craft of Writing the Senses, run by The Sydney Writers' Centre and delivered by the extraordinary Patti Miller. A writer, a teacher, an absolute gift and a total inspiration. 

I went to Bali to find out whether writing was something I could possibly do. Well, that is. And as I left Ubud on Saturday night I told Patti and anyone else who'd listen that this had been one of the best experiences of my life. And it's true. The camaraderie of 12 women, all with a passion for writing and a huge variety of life experiences; all supportive, caring, nurturing. And clever, oh so clever.

I knew, well before the end of the week, that this is how I want to spend my life. After looking for what seems like an age, and trying out lots of things, I've finally found my focus. I'm going to write. 

I'll take small steps (there are after all mortgages to be paid!) but I already know what the first of those will be. Just the thought of it makes me feel both excited and tranquil [and if I'd been reading this out during a class last week I'd be in trouble for using abstract words!]

It certainly wasn't all work; and even the work felt like play. There was sightseeing, shopping (I was very good given my '100 day don't buy anything I don't really need challenge'), and I took a lot of photos of food. And I mean a lot!

A cooking class at the Casa Luna cooking school was a real non-writing highlight. I'll do a separate post about that.

I won't go on too much more about my wonderful week, but if you're interested in doing something like this, feel free to email me and I can give you the low down :)
all photos: a tranquil townhouse

p.s. And guess what? I didn't buy a buddha, not even a little one :)