Missing Creative. If Found, Return to Amy

I feel like I haven’t been creative enough this year. Actually, it’s more than just a feeling; it’s a fact. I’ve spent so much of the last six months working with very little break, and the five months before that my work was so limited that time was in abundance, but my financial situation couldn’t accommodate. Since the beginning of this year, I have only successfully completed two sewing projects, and there’s one that I gave up on entirely. In previous years, I have made close to one project a month but I guess this year is a bit of a write off.

When the year began, I decided I wanted to expand my creative outlets. I took up embroidery, and I’ve made two little hoops. I find the repetition of the stitching rather calming, and it’s a good, relaxing way to try and stay creative. And yet, it’s been 7 months since I last picked up my needle and thread. Seven. I would love to start again, but I’m currently in a position where I simply don’t have enough time to sit for hours and hand stitch.

Another thing I decided that I wanted to learn was the art of watercolour painting. This one was a little harder, because it was completely outside the realms of my skill set. But I persevered and I’ve made a handful of small little paintings that are getting increasingly better. It is this that I am the most proud of, because I have finally managed to step outside of my creative comfort zone and teach myself something new. I’m no Picasso, but with a combination of YouTube tutorials and figuring things out on my own, I’m getting better.

I’ve always thought that I wanted to live a creative life. When I picture my future, I know what I want it to look like, and being able to express myself artistically plays a big part in that. I am an imaginative and creative person at heart, and it’s one of the things I find completely contentment in. I think part of my problem this year, apart from having so little time, is having very little space. Due to a change in my circumstances last year, I had to move in back home. Whilst I am saving to buy my own house, for the time being it means living with my dad. Yup, I’m that person in their late twenties still living at home. You can forward all judgements to the bin, thanks. I like to to think it’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, but that being so doesn’t make the house any bigger. And all my attempts to win the lottery have failed so far!

I’m searching for a new job, with no success. But I just know that I can’t stay in my current job very much longer, because it is draining my time, my life, my creativity and my will to live. I have to hold on to the hope that something better is coming. I mean, I’m even considering the possibility of changing cities once again, but this is a new idea and one that I have to invest a lot more thought and research into before I make any kind of decision. Either way, I know that my lack of creation is directly linked to my situation, and that I shouldn’t feel so bad about it. But I feel like an integral part of me is missing, and my passionate, imaginative heart is going to wither and die unless I can break free of this rut I find myself in.

Someone once said to me that if you really want to do something, you’ll make time to do it. If someone knows of a way to add a few extra hours into the day, without having to feel the exhaustion that will inevitably result, will you let me know?

Responsibility Sucks

There is nothing fun about being responsible. Being responsible means you stay at home when you really want to go to see a movie with your friend, because you know you can’t afford it. Being responsible means getting up and going to work every day, even though it makes you want to drive a fork through your eye. Being responsible means staying firm about decisions you make, when all you really want to do is give in with reckless abandon, and indulge in forbidden pleasures.

Whoever decided that it was up to us, as adults, to bear the weight of responsibility must have been a pretty uptight kinda dude. It certainly makes me miss aspects of my childhood, when hard decisions were up to other people to make. What I need is for someone else, someone smarter than me, to make my decisions and then deal with the aftermath and the responsibility of those decisions. Or, alternatively, I need to just be more carefree, and throw away responsibility altogether. To be fair, neither one of those options are sustainable in the long term, but right now I’m having a lover’s tiff with responsibility, and at this rate, one of us is going to end up sleeping on the couch.

In a perfect world, I would have everything I wanted. In a perfect world, having to choose between my sanity or a paycheck wouldn’t even be an issue. Nor would choosing between fun things, and adult things. In a perfect world I wouldn’t have to sacrifice one thing for another, or give up on things altogether. But alas, we don’t live in a perfect world, and being a responsible adult is about the only thing I am able to do, even when I hate it.

New House, and Good Things

I have moved into a new house, in a new town, entirely on my own. I’ve been looking forward to this since shortly after I moved out of my last solo house, which was almost two years ago. And now, to my absolute joy, I am once again living alone.

As you are probably aware, I am not the most people friendly person in the world. My experiences living with others have only reiterated to me how much I do enjoy being alone, and having my own space. I like not having to put pants on to walk from one room to another. I like being able to watch whatever I want, and take up all the space on my (admittedly tiny) couch. I like practising guitar, or playing video games at 2am without an angry face popping out of a bedroom door to tell me to go to bed. In fact, there’s not much that I don’t love about living alone, if I’m being honest.

The move was relatively painless, and we got all my stuff into the new place fairly quickly. Though the front two rooms are in various states of disarray, I plan to organise it all this weekend and, assuming I can find the missing screws for my sewing table, hopefully set up a sewing space. Which makes me so happy, because it’s been so long since I last had a dedicated space to create. And the space, sweet baby Satan, the space. There’s so much of it! My first house was a tiny little cottage that suited me just fine, but this place is huge! In fact, it’s probably more space than I need, but I am certain that this house was meant to be for me.

See, when I was applying for houses, the place I’ve moved into is one of only two properties I was actually able to inspect. The other was way too small, so I didn’t bother applying. I applied for plenty of other places, but every single one of them was leased before I even had a chance to inspect. Now, you could argue that the reason I was approved for this place is because it was the only one I got to properly apply for, but I believe the other inspections were cancelled because this was the house I was meant to move into. The universe is funny that way, and when she sets her mind on something, it’s best to just let it happen.

Now of course, the first thing I did on my first night in this giant place, was cleanse it. Sage smudging is an important part of my moving house ritual; call me New Age-y, but if you don’t expel negative energies from your house, you’re setting yourself up for trouble. For me, I like the clean slate and it helps to make the house mine, and remove any lingering energy from the previous tenants.

I’m excited to see what this new adventure has in store for me. I passed my final assessment at work on Thursday, so I am now officially qualified at my job, and I get a pay rise to boot! For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m on the right track, and that’s a really great feeling.

Random Life Update

I signed a rental lease yesterday, and today began the preparations for the pending move, which is in about three weeks. I sent off my first rent payment, and the bond. I am arranging to have my storage shed lease cancelled, I organised to have the electricity set up at the new house effective from my move in date, and now the only other things I need to do are make sure the gas gets connected, and cancel my gym membership…which has gone unused for at least the last two months. So, all in all, today I have been a real adult.

My new job is still going really well. I feel a little overwhelmed, and there have been more than a few times in the last two weeks where I feel like I’m not absorbing the information as fast or as well as I should be. It’s quite a complicated job, but I am hoping that I can keep barrelling on and do my best to stay ahead of the curve. Or at the very least, on par. However all those things aside, I’m really glad that I took the chance on the application and that I have come this far in the process. What makes the job even better are the people in my training group.

I’ve said before that I am not particularly good at making new friends. For a myriad of reasons, new friends and I don’t usually seem to stick. My work family are just a really rad bunch of people. There is a lot of laughter in that little training room, a lot of support, and daily shares of puppy photos. We have all fallen into a comfortable friendship in the last couple of weeks, and I feel really lucky to be in that group.

I’m in a very positive mindset at the moment, and I’m excited for the new changes and possibilities coming my way. It makes a nice change, that’s for damn sure! I’m going to leave you with a photo of the view I get to see every night on my drive home. It amazes me every time, just how far the distance stretches, and it makes me realise just how very small we really are.

Mt. Franklin view 4/4/18

Being an Adult; Big Change Edition

So, I think there’s a chance I might actually be becoming a proper adult. I know, I’m just as scared and surprised as you are. It’s just that recently, I’ve made a few changes that seem like very grown up decisions to the perpetual child in me. And perhaps it’s not an altogether bad thing.

The first change I made was taking out the piercing in my tongue. I’ve had my tongue pierced since I was about nineteen, and at the time I thought I was so cool…despite the fact that it took me two weeks to rid myself of the tongue swollen lisp; that was very much the opposite of cool. Anyway, I’d had that piercing in for the better part of five years and finally decided that the damage it could do to my teeth wasn’t worth the supposed ‘cool’ factor. It felt like a very adult choice, and I feel better for it. So does the dentist.

The second thing is that I’ve been branching out with my somewhat meagre cooking abilities. With my housemate in India for three weeks, I have carte blanche to make whatever I want, at whatever time I choose. Now admittedly, last night I did eat four hash browns for dinner because I’m a little broke after impulsively purchasing an electric guitar (ok, so maybe not a completely responsible adult just yet), but that doesn’t change the fact that some of my recent creations have been inspired. Zucchini slice, chicken soup, chilli…I’m no masterchef, but I’m certainly improving.

And the last and most significant change is the fact that I have once again started to apply for jobs. Now, Christmas is either the best or the absolute worst time to be hunting for alternative employment. But it is utterly essential for my mental health, and outlook on life. As I mentioned in my last post, they moved me into a new shop, and despite the fact that I tried to be positive about it, I was in tears three times in three days. That’s a pretty crap track record, and it has made me realise that no amount of money is worth my complete and endless misery. And anyway, the only reason I’m on such good money is because I’m working 51 hours a week, including all weekend. You’ve all heard me complain about it before, so I won’t go into it again, except to say that I need to make a change before I have a mental and emotional breakdown. And trust me, the way things have been going lately, I am well on my way.

So there you have it. Little old ‘adulthood is for losers’ Amy is finally on her way to becoming one. Gods help us all.


Those of you that follow my blog will have read a post I put up a few weeks ago, about change. Well, the big change I mentioned in that post is official. At the end of this month, I will be moving to the city. I have a confirmed job, a confirmed house and a moving date. I am finally taking the giant and overdue step of leaving my stifling and stunting home town, to move on to bigger and better(?) things.

I have lived in my current house for a touch over a year, and it has never really felt like home. I mean sure, it’s where my stuff is. It’s where I sleep, where I sew, where I shower. And my ghost came with me…either that or I got a new one, so at least the knocks on the walls and the randomly opening doors was comfortingly familiar. But that aside, something about the house never felt right. It’s like I never really got properly settled.

Before I move out of home last year, I had lived in that house for twenty years. It’s where I grew up, I can tell you every creak in the floor, every crack in the paint, every quirk. My dad still lives in that house, and to me, it will always be home. Every night I eat dinner at his house and flop in front of the heater feels more natural to me than when I (rarely) cook in my own house and settle in on the couch with a movie.

Moving away is going to be interesting. I’m moving in with a friend, to a place almost entirely unfamiliar to me. I am going to have to man up, and start cooking for myself instead of relying on my dad. (shut up, I hate cooking and he can only cook for an army, it’s a win win). I am going to have to get accustomed to living with another person again…and hope that she doesn’t get sick of tripping over my sewing stuff! And I’m hoping that this house will feel a little more like home than the house I’m about to leave.

I am comfortable living on my own. I enjoy having my own space and not having to put clothes on. I like being able to use my vibrator and not worry that someone will hear me. I like doing my own thing and being accountable only to me. It’s unlikely I’ll ever move back home for those reasons. But nevertheless, it is and it will always be home.

Working Hard for the Money…Then Giving It All Away.

I need to win the lottery. Or invent some incredible new thing that makes me billions of dollars. Or become a ridiculously famous author. Or a stripper. Whichever of these options that makes me the most money, I choose that one.

Here’s the thing. I’m not really driven by money. Even though I know it’s essential to live, I’m not chasing dreams of high powered corporate jobs, or having high aspirations in any given career. I just want to create, and travel and meet interesting people, do new things and collect experiences rather than material possessions. The problem is, unfortunately due to life and adulthood being a major inconvenience, I need money.

I just got paid and sat down to work out my outgoing expenses for the week. After my rent, my weekly car repayment, the usual small deposit in my savings (which is actually for bills etc) and on my credit card, and the money I’ve set aside to see the dentist tomorrow (*eeeep*) I have $150 left. One hundred and fifty dollars with which to buy food, essential items – don’t you find that all the important stuff runs out at once – put fuel in my car, buy a Mother’s Day gift or flowers or something for my mum and allow myself the daily chai latte that gets me through my mornings at work. It looks like I’ll be eating a lot of Mi Goreng this week.

I know that there are others far worse off than me, and that the fact that I have a regular income means I’ll never really be too deep in hot water. But I live alone and pay everything by myself and sometimes I would just like to go through a week without having to count every dollar that I spend. In one hand and out the other, isn’t that what they say? Well, I better find a solution soon, or that stripper idea might start to seem really appealing. And anyone who has seen me dance will know just how bad an idea that really is.

Through the Eyes of a Child

Sometimes I miss being a child. Back when things were mostly easy; when the scary things could be fixed by simply hiding under the covers, and when my biggest worry was that the boy I had a crush on might think I was weird. I miss those easy days, when life didn’t seem to weight so heavily on me.

I’ve been going through a weird time lately. My head is all over the place; I’m questioning things I thought were solid, I’m doubting myself more than ever, I’m struggling with the fact that my life is going nowhere and the crushing inevitability of remaining stuck in a place I want desperately to be free of. I hate my job. I miss my brother. I can’t write. And the bitter cherry atop it all is a deep loneliness that I’ve only just come to recognise.

It’s hard, being in such a dark place with no sign of the light. In my mind I know that the light is there somewhere, and that eventually I will climb back to to it again. But right now, I feel like I’m being dragged deeper and deeper into the murky depths of my own unhappiness, and from where I stand, there appears nothing ahead of me but more of the same.

Life was simpler when I was a kid. It’s funny, I used to be so excited to be an adult. But now that I’m here, the world doesn’t seem as great as it looked through the eyes of a child.

I Hate my Job and the Universe is a Jerk

I hate my job. I work in a kiosk in a busy shopping centre, where it is always loud, busy, full on and stressful. I can’t make a cup of tea – or ten. I can’t relax. I deal with misogynistic jerks on a weekly basis. I feel incompetent most of the time. And most of all, I have no passion for it. And that, I think, is the thing I hate the most.

For the past couple of months, I have been applying for jobs in my home town. Anything, everything that came up that was part time or full time, because a casual job just isn’t enough to pay my rent and my car loan; the two biggest and most important financial responsibilities in my life currently. I got rejection letters aplenty, and otherwise, silence. So I started applying for jobs in the city.

I have been borrowing my friend’s internet any time I can to apply for any jobs I found that fit the criteria I was looking for. All I got was more of the same. I was getting desperate. And then yesterday, I got a phone call from a place I had applied for last week. A menswear shop in the city, full time on a five month contract. I have an interview next Tuesday.

And then today, after my workmate quit, my boss came to me and handed me a letter of offer. I’ve been working casual for over a year, and he offered me a full time position. So now I have this dilemma. Do I hold off until the interview, or do I say yes now? Well of course, I’m going to take the job. Because despite how much it makes me miserable, it’s the best offer on the table. Full time, in my current town, in a job I mostly know how to do. The universe has a way of forcing you in the direction it wants you to go. My decision was already made before I had a chance to make it.

So props to you, Universe, you sneaky sonofabitch. I guess one of us here has to be the adult, and since I’m no good at playing that part, I suppose it’s good to have someone in my corner. Even if that means staying at a job that causes me undue stress for financial stability and some modicum of security. *sigh*

Help, my Life is a Mess of Stress. (But at Least my House is Clean!)

I’m pretty frustrated with a lot of things in my life lately. Restless once again, I’m in a position where I wake up every single morning in a state of stress and anxiousness. My head gets overwhelmed with all the things that are causing me to silently panic, and before I even fully realise it, I’m subconsciously setting myself up to have a bad day. It’s not that I’m doing it on purpose, but because I’m so anxious about many things in my life at the moment, I can’t relax, I can’t calm down and I can’t enjoy the day.

It is Saturday. When I woke up this morning, I got up to pee and then went back to bed and hid under my covers. I have an unfinished dress in my sewing room for a client that I could be fixing, or seeing as how it’s quite nice weather, I could go out and soak up some sun and enjoy the day. But instead, I stayed in bed and went over everything in my head, trying desperately to come up with a solution for my current predicaments. It ultimately failed, and I succeeded only in giving myself new things to stress about.

So instead, I got up, made myself a Milo and power cleaned my house. All my frustrated energy went into making my humble abode spotless. In the last hour I have done dishes, washing (and, as I have just discovered, flooded my laundry because the hose slipped out of the sink…ugh), made my bed, folded and put away my clothes, vacuumed the floor, dusted, cleaned the bathroom and counted the coins in my coin jar. I can’t work out how to solve my life problems, but I sure can clean.

If someone would like to offer me a job that pays $1000 a week, give me a pill for motivation and inspiration, find a home for my bunnies that better suits their needs, and gives me at least ten more hours in every day, I would be forever indebted to you. Someone? Anyone? Help…?