When somebody says "All you need to know is that you're loved", Brace Yourself. Because the next thing you hear is going to tear the bottom out of everything you thought you ever knew. After the you hear those words, every life shattering possibilty runs thorugh your head, but one of those thoughts stops running looks you in the face and says "She's done it"

With every part of yourself you hope that you're wrong. When those words  come out of her mouth, I look my aunty in the eyes and ask her for confirmation of my fears in five simple words,

"She's done it, hasn't she?"

Her eyes tell me what her lips can not.

"How did she do it?"

"Come with me," she says, "we need to go home."

The journey home is black. I push my fingers so deep into my eyes to try to stop myself from crying. Soft words are being spoken but I can't hear them. I need this all to stop. I need the world to stop so that I can have time to put my thoughts together. Why does the world have to keep spinning? I need it to stop so that i can collect myself. Get ready to face what is waiting for me at home.

The ute stops and I get out. Hands are grabbing at me. Hands I don't want touching me. Hands that need to let me go. Flashing lights and people are confusing the space where I am trying to walk. More hands.

"Just let me go!"

The walk from the ute to the front door is happening so quickly but also seems like the longest walk I have ever done. The walk is long but not long enough to prepare me for the moment I have been dreading since I heard those words -"you are loved." The moment where my Dad meets me at the door. The moment where fears become reality. There is a brief moment where time stops and I look at my Dad for comfort. His blue eyes fail me. He doesn't have enough strength for himself let alone to feign strength for me. He can't be the superhero I need him to be right now. He's having a hard enough time trying to be a human.

"Dad, I want to go in there. I want to see her."

Hands grab at my shoulders as I try to find a place to squeeze past my slowly depleting father.

"You can't go in there. You can't see her." he says as I'm pulled back away from him and the house that was once, but will never be again, my home.

Everything is melting and I'm screaming and everything aches, and  I want to lay with her. I want to hold her. But I can't. And I never will again. She's gone. And her blood and brains run down the window and my mummy has run away without saying good-bye for the very last time.

Movies-the new bed time story

One of my favourite memories of childhood was bedtime stories. My brother, father and myself would all pile into one bed with a stack of books and the fun would begin. Dad would animate the stories with an array of character voices and personal anecdotes. He was a fabulous story teller.

As we got older and deemed too old for bedtime stories, I shifted my focus to another form of story telling. I love to read books but I can never seem to recreate the colour my Dad added to his stories. A good movie on the other hand - made well - can be a story in all its technicolour glory.

A great script delivered by actors who become characters from another time and place can deliver that same satisfaction a child feels while listening to a bedtime story. This is why it is so important for a director to seriously consider the manner in which he tells his story. A story is neither bad nor good. It is the way it is told that makes the difference.

coffee and cake

Isn't it amazing how something as simple as coffee and cake can turn a bad day into one that leaves with that sense of "yes actually, it is good to be alive."

This can be said of many things. It would be cliche to say a child's laughter, a lovers embrace or a phone call from a friend. These simple acts are definitely up there in the "good to be alive" category but there are much simpler things than which can bring you joy. Which brings me to the coffee and cake.

After a crap morning of hating your job, employees, colleagues and pretty much life in general, you leave your desk and wander up to the good old faithful coffee place of your choice. You don't have to like coffee to know what these ramblings are about. It could be a hot chocolate or a cup of tea - just as rewarding. You amble up to the counter, face as long as a speech by John Howard, feet as heavy as a school kid's backpack, and place your order. While you deliberate over which cake/biscuit/slice will satisfy the craving inside, you also deliberate whether you are in the right profession, relationship, country. Then you come across that day changing moment.

Here's something critical to that moment. If the coffee is burnt or the cake is dry, the moment may not happen and you will be stuck in that foul state of being for the rest of the day. But if that hot drink is brewed just right and the cake can be enjoyed crumb by crumb, that day changing moment is only moments away.

As this is being written, i am basking in the glow of two long blacks, an afghan biscuit and creme brulee, thinking what the heck was my problem this morning. Lets get on with the happy stuff.

So to all you baristas and pastry chefs, know this! you might have just changed a persons day!

an appertif of a complex problem

Is there anyway that we can ever show someone how much they mean to us ? And if you did would they be more reluctant to leave us?

Can you ever really fully mourn someone you love? Will you ever rid yourself of the place that you reserved just for loving them?

Is suicide a final giving up of a life a person has no strength left to live? Or is just a painful slap in the face to everyone who has cared for them?

Can a person be so complex that you can only love them from afar without them ever really knowing how you feel? Can a person be loved even though they are so very difficult to understand?

I know it might seem crazy but to some of us life is a very confusing place to navigate through. Creating relationships with people is like stumbling through a maze where you constantly meet dead ends and double back on yourself. Treading lightly and cautiously hoping that the direction your travelling in will help you to get you to place you are heading.  It forces you to question yourself and what the other person is saying. To interpret anothers actions and being so dam scared that you are not heading in the right direction for their approval and acceptance.

Ultimately, as human beings, we all just want to be loved; As a friend, sibling, child, parent, lover, spouse or any other entity we take on as part of a relationship. We are often told that we can never be loved without loving ourselves first. What if, in our capacity as a human being, we can not find it within ourselves to love ourselves? Does this mean that we are completely unlovable?

The mind has so many questions that no book can ever answer.

Insomnia has that wonderful benefit of giving your "mind" a chance to solve every problem in your life. Quite often the mind in it's procrastination of sleep has come up with solutions to end world hunger, to help bridge the gap between indigenous and non-indigenous Australians, redesigned a bedroom and written the perfect article for the publication I am working for and this is all in the first hour. The mind has also come up with the ideal first line to the novel I want to write but never get around to.  But what do people want to read about. do they want a true story? do they want to read about "supernatural phenomena"?what makes a story a good story?

Even if you know where to start - when do you work out when to stop?

feasts of words

Well this is my first blog. the thing everyone says and apparantly there is no feast of words here. not even a snack actually.....hopefully time will make sure that the next one will be a bit more satisfying.