Outside.

An adventure, merely to run what errands must be ran.
Happiness is within reach… I can feel it inside me, bursting to escape.
Blue sky. Slightest breeze.
The lovely weather man told me it is sixteen degrees today.

Happiness – there it is.

I can taste it.

It envelops me whole, eagerly joined by its accomplices hope, anticipation, nostalgia and inspiration.
Inspiration – the big one.
Blue sky. Sky so blue I couldn’t venture any deeper if I looked into my own blue eyes.
Blue eyes, blue as the deepest, cleanest water…
Errands that must be ran are completed with absolute ease -

I have not yet realised that I have done it again.
I have looked outside at the gorgeous day, the beautiful world, and automatically dressed in summer clothing.
A floral mini dress, sheer stockings, and platform wedges.
The jacket unintentionally stayed in the car while those errands were taken care of.

And then it happens, even if only inside my mind.
Sixteen degrees. Sixteen of them, combined with sky so blue I want to dip my feet in a pool somewhere.
Mangoes and short shorts and sunscreen and feet burning from the unbearable heat the ground you walk upon has absorbed. Air conditioners.
Iced water – nothing else will suffice.
The weather man is unnecessary.
He always tells you the same thing: It’s hot. This is a heat wave. It is thirty five degrees. thirty nine degrees. Oh, wow, it is fourty three degrees. And you should stay inside. And blah, blah, blah.

I can feel it.

Although, tomorrow is yet another day, according to the mean weather man.
Bastard. I bet he does this just to make me sad.
Tomorrow, Tuesday, Wednesday… Rain. Cold.
It doesn’t matter – in the van Aalst household we have a tradition; Lazy Sunday Afternoons.
According to the time keeper, noon has passed.
I cannot contain myself any longer. It’s time to soak up as much vitamin D as possible.
I’ll take my book. I’ll embrace the world, once again… for today is just a sneak preview of what is to come. Oh, Summer, please hurry. I have missed you terribly.

All my love,

The girl with kaleidoscope eyes.

People are excited. Every day is warmer than the last and the sun stays out longer and brighter, everyone is revelling in it. Girls are making their presence known and keeping their temperatures down by sporting the tiniest of shorts and spaghetti string tops, bright colours are everywhere. Every guy has dug out last years shorts and thongs to help keep himself cool.

Everybody goes on about how beautiful the days are, and how wonderful the weather is. Everybody is looking forward to the next hot day on the calendar, and one dip in the mercury is greeted with moans and complaints. I’m guilty of it myself, even though I know that the moment it gets above 30 degree’s I will suffer and suffer until it’s cold again, my blood is too thick for this weather. Summer. It must be amazing…

But it isn’t. By the end of the year everyone will be complaining. Everything is hot, all of the time, cars are hot, streets are hot, sand is hot. Air conditioners will strain the power grid to breaking point, causing cycling blackouts to handle the load. The dream days spent sunning on the beach will be forgotten, because it is simply too hot to lie in direct sunlight, and nobody wants to spend all day submerged in dirty sea water.

People will be dreaming of Winter again, every time the temperature starts dipping lower and lower there will be celebration, and much discussion. People will appreciate being able to go out without smothering themselves in an inch thick layer of SPF30 and burning themselves just trying to operate their car.

It’s a classic case of ‘The grass is greener on the other side’, except it shows how short-term our minds are working. We might dream for years and years about that greener grass and never try and explore it, or we might jump head first in and regret it for even longer. But the seasons continue to change every single year, it’s a constant cycle that we all go through time and time again, yet still we yearn for something different, for the world to be exactly as it isn’t right now.

Every country bumpkin day-dreams about a busier life, and every city slicker day-dreams about the quiet country lifestyle. People who work 9-5 jobs yearn for a break from the cycle, and those working shifts wish they had that simplified routine. It keeps us sane to be able to uncomplicate the world we live in with a two dimensional paradise in our thoughts, it breaks the monotony of our lives with a touch of freedom.

It is why we have to dream.

Is it impossible to fathom that you could be psychic? That you could know the future, and influence the past? Through all of our achievements, from Prometheus stealing fire from the gods, to a single apple sparking theoretical science and forward-thinking civilisation, the idea that we can bend and break time has recurred through all of us. When we discovered Earth was round, when we attributed thunder and lightning to weather instead of gods, when we argued for evolution over creation, even when critical thinking became the norm, we still pondered the meaning of that inexorable and indefinable dimension: time.

Free-thinkers, philosophers and theoretical scientists are now exploring the nature of time in relation to space. People like Stephen Hawking and Dan Falk are proponents of the idea that we know very little about time. Can we wrap our minds around the idea that everything that will happen, has already and is happening? Or is it all part of the Grand Plan, laid down by a higher being or the nature of the universe itself?

Several modern schools of thought believe that time is not a line; it doesn’t begin at one point and end at another. I’m inclined to agree. If we truly appreciate time as the fourth (or fifth, or ninth) dimension, we must imply the same principle attributes we apply to all the others. Space is infinite. Why not time too? And here’s the really messy bit: if time is indeed infinite, there cannot have been a beginning. It must have come from somewhere, true, but never from the start. This would also work for the end. And seriously – do you honestly believe that something as mind-boggling and powerful as time itself (that truly undiscovered country) can be simplified by a clock?

Which brings me to the crux of it – if time has no beginning and no end, wouldn’t it be possible that it is simply another reference point for the universe to compute its Grand Plan? And if that is the case, would it not be possible for us to move it, to shape it and to surpass it? I can certainly see why we scoff at psychics and paranormal enthusiasts, but so too did we scoff at almost every game-changing breakthrough of our race.

Is it possible that we have already, or are currently doing, or are going to do, everything that we have, are and will do? Is it possible that we are simply reliving moments, that we are jumping around in time in our own heads, that everything is a memory and a dream? Scoff all you like, but tell me: how do you know that is not the case? Perhaps we are living every moment at the same time. Perhaps I know already how this blog will end, or when I will die. And perhaps time itself is simply an illusion.

Our minds are extraordinary things. Our souls are far more extraordinary. Perchance one day you wake up, and then you wake up, and you witness your life and your place in the universe and you think to yourself: is it truly all that simple? Perhaps we do this every day. Perhaps, when we sleep or when we die, we have our chance to understand the nature of things.

We are a forward-thinking people – perhaps we are the closest anyone, anywhere among the stars, has ever or will ever come to understanding the nature of this great thing we call the universe. But through all our time on this planet, and on this very plane of existence, we have never once come to understand the nature of time. We still rely on clocks to tell us, but ask yourself this: would you trust a clock with anything else?

She slumps onto the couch; hot, hungry and exhausted from a hard day at work followed by a strenuous cardio session at the gym. Only two kilograms to go…then maybe she can fit into those size six jeans that call her name every time she walks into that iconic fashion store on the main street. Two hours of her day today was consumed by running, cycling and rowing, followed by a simple salad in a lame attempt to satiate her starvation. Let’s call her Madeline. She is thriving to be the image of perfection in a huge proportion of today’s world – slim, gorgeous and wanted.

Sarah, what the…? What are you ranting about this time? Well, as a matter of fact, I got sunburnt yesterday. I just couldn’t help it! The outside world was sunny and warm with the slightest breeze, it created the ultimate place to relax and recuperate between all the hard work I was doing… Who could pass the sunshine up?! My arms and face have been a little, well, stung today, which indeed has put a real downer on things. But then I thought “Wow, I really need to get a tan, I can’t possibly let my snow white limbs be seen by the public eye”. It has since occurred to me that there are just so many things wrong with that harmless thought that made its way down the path of my mind in the way that any rational thought would have done. That thought sent a massive proportion of my world into an even tighter downward thought spiral.

I know, it’s true. I have a very fair complexion, and being as ‘white’ as I am is just not seen as fashionable, or dare I say it, sexy, in the world we live in. So I genuinely need a tan. I would like to develop a nice, natural (as opposed to fake) sun-kissed glow. And this frustrates me to no end. As Summer approaches, tiny girls will wander around in little shorts and midriff tops – and this scene will become so abundant you simply stop noticing…but whether you pay attention or not, these tiny girls are still likely to have bleached blonde hair and solarium orange skin. This over-tanned, celebrity wannabe look is sought after by too many of the women that inhabit the generation I belong in. I do not find it attractive or glamorous at all.

But people do. They must! Otherwise WHY would they all continue to pursue this look after more than just one summer, so we can’t simply fob it off as another fashion mistake?

Why does this annoy me so much, I hear you quietly ponder? Well, let me explain to you. I’m annoyed that body image is so important to such a large percentage of the Western society – more important than say, one’s own health. Like our friend Madeline – she is not the only girl that puts herself through that torture. Look around you. Sure, there are as many average people as  there are gym goers, or health buffs, if not more. But being ‘average’ does not have the potential to consume you completely. It may be easier to live, but who wants to be just another person when there is the chance out there to rise above ‘average’, to become beauty in human form? How could you possibly be happy with yourself? Beauty envelopes all of us in the forms of things we actively consume – namely TV, music, and movies. There are superstars and models and just simply gorgeous people out there, living the red carpet life, and we all know it is far, far from the glamorous beautiful world they try to make us believe in.

There is a not so fine line between the amount you care about how you look and the lifestyle you live. I respect that everybody is different, but those of you that have overstepped the line just annoy me. It’s the human race in general that I’m at my wits end with. It’s not okay (healthy) to want to be like darling Madeline, and count every individual calorie you intake only to make sure you cycle off twice as many, because you need to lose just two more kilograms. Nor is it okay (healthy) to be 120kg and choose pizza with garlic bread and a can of coke for dinner because you don’t care about the way you look. Mate, seriously, what about your heart and your liver and your cholesterol levels? This is how people die every single day! The problem is, in my eyes, the not-so-fine line exists completely isolated and alone under the world’s bright lights in an over-crowded place, because so many people avoid it and make it invisible. As much as TV, magazines, and other forms of media advertise their beliefs that they are over rake thin women, and that bigger certainly is better, I find an alarming contradiction when I turn the page to see Mischa Barton “looking sexier than ever” – gaunt features, sharp angles and all. How can society be so obsessed with this look? It doesn’t matter as it’s basically the higher power these days.

I believe I have a fairly sound understanding of the way it all works, and of everything that eventuates out of everything else. I appear confident and comfortable enough with my image/weight to live my life with a bounce in my step and a smile on my face. But I’ve fought my own evil demons – that mentality that I’m not pretty enough, or I’m too fat, or my legs aren’t long enough for me to be beautiful since before I can remember. I have, for lack of a better term, ‘come of age’ in the last 4-5 years. In this period I have gained seven kilograms, lost about seventeen, and then gained about nine. If it wasn’t for my loved ones constantly instilling me with self confidence, combined with my almost anal eating habits, those demons would surely be red hot and most likely endeavouring to devour my entire persona. I’m just like everybody else out there that cares about the way they look more than they should. I’ll never stop. And there’s not a whole lot I can do about that and be happy simultaneously. Call it a religion, if you like, or just think of  it as teetering on the edge of the not-so-fine line. It’s ultimately my higher power. I have found the balance and realised that to abuse this power by either treating it or tormenting it is going to end badly…it’s all about compromise.

All in all, Somebody needs to flip the coin and have it land sideways, as this discussion has two very clear, very defined sides. And if you aren’t the sideways landed coin, you’re clearly, obviously heads or tails. Nobody wins. Nobody loses, either. Think about it, decide for yourself what side has the better argument. And let me know.

The sun is out more often than not, the sky is appearing bluer by the day, and gradually the need to rug up and stay warm diminishes. It’s that time of year where my annual ‘depression’, for lack of a better word, crawls back into it’s sleepy shell, and I become more enveloped with inspiration, excitement and happiness every morning that I wake.

You see, I utterly detest winter. It’s cold (I may as well be cold-blooded, it’s that hard for me to be warm), wet, and the days are non-existent. Working a five day, 9am-5pm week pretty much guarantees that it averages about 6 cold, miserable degrees on my morning jaunt to the bus stop. Even with gloves on, and the hood of my jacket over my head, my nose runs, my lungs hurt, and my fingers and toes are completely numb. Being in the heated workplace isn’t so bad – well at least I’m not being blown over and rained on in there. But it’s still work. The best part of a working day is the end, that part when you can say “Yay, now it’s time to go home!” Yay, indeed. It’s 5.45pm by the time I close those doors, and it’s dark.

What happened to the day? Life goes on like this for several weeks, just passes me by. I wake up, work, sleep. Evenings and nights are out of the question to leave the house; and not just for me either. Ask anyone; it’s just TOO COLD. Cooping yourself up inside constantly can’t be mentally or physically good for one’s health. Bored? Have a snack… or five. Bored? Stare intently into the box that is the TV for another hour. Bored? Go to sleep. Sleep comes far too easily in winter, provoking the awful feelings of lethargy and listlessness to stick around. Problem for me is, I am easily bored, and things such as TV and video games do not excite me in the slightest.

So, I spend these weeks hibernating, waiting for the days to grow longer, warmer, and all in all more pleasant. Just sitting and waiting.

Then there is that wonderful transitional stage between Winter and Summer that we like to call Spring; and right now, it seems as though it is beginning. Splendid.

I have spent the last couple of days rugged up inside, despite the perfect weather outside, despite the sun warming the ground we walk on and despite the birds who are ever so musical lately. I’m home sick from work, and I have truly physically felt like a piece of arse. It doesn’t matter, though. The season of Spring makes me feel emotionally indestructible. It makes me happy. I know that within a few days I will have no problem wandering out into the day, and savor that magical feeling of the Sun’s gorgeous rays soaking into my bones. How blissfully exciting!

However, there is a handful of other emotions that come with the change in season that while I accept, I do not fully understand why they’re so abundant. Reflection, nostalgia, reminiscence. It’s interesting, really. I always feel like I have been transported back to a happier, more youthful time in my life, although I have never been able to place my finger on where or when. Because that more peaceful feeling is me, now, as I am. Memories certainly linger of old times, but no matter what the memory I cannot help but embrace them, and smile as a sense of well-being consumes my thoughts. I do sometimes almost feel as though I should be saddened by some of these fleeting memories, but sadness and despair are simply impossible.

I do not feel lost. I cannot feel lost.

I am ready to take on the world, and I will win and continue to win… that is, at least, until Winter makes its presence known again. It is a vicious cycle. But I will ignore this cruel notion for as long as I can manage, and do my best to simply enjoy the journey through what we call life. It’s a beautiful thing that I am not quite ready to begin taking for granted again. :)

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my life, and about family. I spent some time with some family recently and it got me thinking about life and the future. I am enjoying less and less partying all weekend with friends and am loving thinking about and planning for the future. That $200′s worth of drinks could be a new coffee table, or some really nice curtains. Is this a maturity that comes with age or is it something else?

So this brings me to the point I’d like to discuss. How much are we really in control of ourselves? And if not ourselves, who or what is controlling us?

Society is based around the notion that a woman and man meet and fall in love, they get married and they create a family. It’s a cycle that works for so many people, it gives people with no direction a direction. It’s also probably one of the primary reasons that this nuclear family just doesn’t really work anymore. If being a mum is your sole goal in life, no doubt your kids are going to feel smothered, they’re going to grow up and become independent, and you’re going to go through all of it wondering what was really all in it for you. That is if you’re lucky enough to choose when you want to have a baby.

Basic instincts come into the equation though, are we pairing off and breeding because society tells us to? Or at some age do our natural biological clock start pushing us towards the necessary outcome for any species, propagation.  An amoeba doesn’t worry about showing off in front of the other single cell organisms, it focuses all it’s energy into division. A wild elephant will eat, and migrate, and mate all so that he or she can get some elephant-nookie and raise offspring, whom they’ll sacrifice their life to protect.

These natural instincts have shaped our society for as long as we have record and no doubt further back than that.  When I was younger I used to loathe the idea that external and internal forces directed peoples lives so much, that they adhered to the standard that almost everybody does, and they didn’t do something unique and live for themselves.

I can think of a select few people who have been connected to my life who didn’t allow themselves to adhere to those standards, with some of them ended up in a situation they never meant to be in in the first place. Was this an accident? Sure. A bad thing? No. I can think of an artist I know who was never right for having a family, and though it may have appeared as though he ran away, to him, he managed to escape and live the life he wants. The norm isn’t always best for everybody.

I’m understanding more every day why so many people end up living the same lives, and not rocking the boat the way that looked so appealing when I was younger. It’s not that I’m unique and these people are all sheep, it just takes a measure of time, a dash of societal influence and a dollop of instinct.

Image by Thomas Hawk

Australia is the best country on Earth. No really, think about it. We’re a young and vibrant country, with a history built less on aggressively taking what is ours, and more on opposing oppression with common sense and a humanitarian moral value in human life. We have vast tracts of untamed land to call our own. Our economy is relatively self-reliant, with good market exports to Asia, North America and Europe. We can drink any bastard under the table, and are great at parties. Our sporting teams are the best in the world at what they do.

Now, obviously, that isn’t the end of my rant. My point is I am Australian. And why wouldn’t I have nothing but the highest esteem for the country that raised me to be who I am?

There is the crunch right there. Australia raised me to be who I am. I was raised an Australian. I’m sure people from the USA have a similar esteem for their own country, even though others may have many conflicting moral values. They’re proud of their belief that Americans are infallible under God. The English pride themselves on their ability to be cheerful in misery (and with good cause really – You’d have to be).

So, why do people from every country feel their own country is the best? The answer is simple: because we are, one and all, a product of our birthplace.

We see things with rose-tinted glasses, if you will. Raised from birth, I have been taught that Australian values are the most important values. The countries with similar values are good friends, while the countries with wildly dissimilar values are to be shunned.

There are those among every country who choose to leave and explore the world, or move to another country. I believe there are two types of people that do this. The first group is made up of those who have taken their countries values completely to heart, and feel the need to propagate them elsewhere. This is basic human nature – send our best to convert others to our way of thinking, and we become stronger. The second group is made up of those who, at heart, don’t believe in their birth-place’s values. These people tend to visit a specific country, and become expats. Again, there is nothing wrong with this. It is all simply the distribution of wealth.

Problems will occur of course, when two countries that are extremely powerful have vastly differing opinions. Again, this is simply a cosmic state of life. The cold war between the USA and the USSR wasn’t fought over traditional small-scale, short-term things like resources, land or diversity of breeding options (from a biological standpoint), it was fought over something much larger. Something much more human. The two countries were at severe odds because they were of equal power and wealth, with almost opposite values, ethically and morally.

So I suppose the point I’m making here is that, while you should be proud of your place of origin, you should keep an open mind about other lands. To get right down to it, we are all human, we simply have different social compasses. And just for fun, consider this paragraph:

Australia is the worst country on Earth. No really, think about it. We’re a young country, with what little there is of our history built on aggressively taking what Britain thought was theirs, and on opposing rightful oppression (both from the British, and the native people from the Caucasian Australians). Because our general education is low, we consider the idiotic things we do common sense, but hey, we were recently forced to have a humanitarian moral value in human life, after the rest of the world became disgruntled with our White Australia policy in the 60’s. We have vast tracts of untamed land to call our own, but it’s mostly rocky desert and completely useless. Our economy is relatively self-reliant, with good market exports (rice and cotton, which destroy our rivers and landscape, sheep which ruin tenable land, and uranium, nuff said). We can drink any bastard under the table, and we think we are great at parties, but really most people hate our thuggish personalities. Our sporting teams are the best in the world at what they do, being that we only play sports that we’re good at, and think all the others are crap.

Now isn’t that interesting. Why don’t you do the same with your own country, and perhaps next time we meet, we can meet person to person, instead of clash our morals against each other in some sort of metaphysical rutting session.

Peace to all.