A change in the wind

Since starting uni, I have become increasingly aware of something - I love to write. I've always known I could write, but was never really sure if it was something I was truly passionate about. University has certainly confirmed that I do indeed love words.

It sounds simple yet my mind frequently wanders. Just because you love something, doesn't mean you'll make something out of it. Writing is a tough gig. And although I find my self confidence growing by the day, there is still a lot of doubt inside me. I've never really believed I was capable of doing anything worthwhile.

A close family member recently told me that they thought my previous blog was a bit too personal. The person meant no malice, and was only looking out for what they considered to be my best interests. I was hurt at first. I put myself out there because it felt right. In hindsight though, it was probably a bit random and out of context. As an aspiring writer, I need to learn how to choose my moments. I shouldn't need to advertise my posts on facebook just for the sake of it.

At this stage, I am not sure that blogging is my destiny. Globetrotting Antics has never had a real structure, and although I have had moments where I thought it would be something great, I don't believe it has ever really 'taken off' as a travel blog. My twitter and facebook advertising efforts have essentially failed. And that's ok. I never really tried that hard! Truth be told, I still don't really know who I am and I think that comes across in my writing.

However I also know that if I want to be creative, I need an outlet. Plus, I want to continue with my monthly travel blogging project. SO - I'm not shutting down the blog! I'm just going to stop writing as though I have an audience, and I won't be posting links on social networks. This blog is going to be completely selfish - a personal journey that people can stumble upon, only if they so desire.

“Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. You fight for it, strive for it, insist upon it, and sometimes even travel around the world looking for it. You have to participate relentlessly in the manifestations of your own blessings. And once you have achieved a state of happiness, you must never become lax about maintaining it. You must make a mighty effort to keep swimming upward into that happiness forever, to stay afloat on top of it.” 
― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

* Bee photo taken by large, ginger man

3 years: an unlikely love story

3 years ago I decided to join an online dating website, for no other reason than boredom. I wasn't trying to meet the love of my life. I know that sounds like a lie, but it's the truth. I was set to leave for Europe in 6 months time. I didn't believe in long-distance relationships. Then I met Damian.

I think that the reason I wanted to meet this fictional online character was because he didn't ask me out. He wasn't desperate like the others. He was just genuine and honest. Plus, his facebook profile was approved by my little sister, and that meant a lot (she's a harsh, but fair critic).

At times, I still cringe that I met the love of my life online. It seems like such a rip off. It's not a fairytale.  Online dating is essentially an act of convenience. Yet, every day I have to pinch myself because I cannot believe that I am lying next to such a beautiful person. So patient and gentle, a love that grows deeper over time. He has taught me that genuine love isn't about crazy, head-over-heels passion. It's about trust, honesty and kindness. He thinks i'm so 'clever', but every day, I learn something from him. He makes me want to be a better person.

We're not really sure when we 'officially' started going out, so we estimated that the 13th of April is our anniversary. Last night I came home to find a bookshelf built for me, with beautiful flowers and a card. Just another reason to love my big handsome Marn.

I'm not sure about other people's experiences with online dating. I'm not even really sure if I recommend it. I just know that somehow, unexpectedly, it worked for us. And here I am sitting next to him, writing about him and he doesn't even know it. He will soon though. I love you xx

April journey: Royal National Park

My sister recently purchased some WHEELS, so yesterday we hit the road and went to Wattamolla Beach in the Royal National Park near Wollongong, NSW Australia. As we stumbled into a relatively untouched oasis, I was genuinely shocked that I had yet to discover this place, so close to Sydney and on the way to my Nanny's place.

I've always snubbed Sydney beaches for being overcrowded, and perhaps I'm making a mistake giving away this secret. But if you have a car and live in Sydney THIS is the place to be, only 45 minutes from the city and a measly $11 national park fee.

A short walk through the shadowy scrub, turn around and you see an inlet leading to a a large waterfall.  I found a small patch of dense scrub that reminded me of the enchanted wood, so I promptly requested a photo shoot...as you do.

March journey: Hardy's Bay

I really struggled to get away this month. Busy with assignments, work and lack of funding, I lost motivation for this project and only just managed to scrape something together at the last minute. Luckily for me, my parents live in one of the most beautiful places in the world...the Central Coast in New South Wales. So when stuck for an idea, I took the easy road and headed back to my roots for Easter.

Yesterday we visited the aptly named Hardy's Bay for a coffee and walk on the waterfront. To get to this gorgeous little bay you drive up a steep winding hill in the middle of the bush and at the top you overlook my favourite beach on the coast - Killcare. I lived in this area for a short period in my early 20's with my ex boyfriend in a tiny studio apartment in what felt like a bush retreat. I appreciated the isolated beauty then and I still do now.

Rosie was the guest of honour

Coffee at the local Garden 2 Plate cafe...really rustic and I just saw on their website that 

many of their ingredients are grown locally - it's a shame we didn't eat there but my 

guess is that it would have been good. Across the road is the Killcare General Store 

where I can remember eating a great veggie burger

Hardy's Bay....beauty in simplicity

The art of places: Tortola

An island of contrast
Brightly exhilarating and achingly beautiful
Unwelcome, unsatisfied, unsure
A place of wonder and infinite rays

Sometimes I wake in a panic because i'm no longer there

The Help

I've always loved reading. As a kid, I remember sneakily turning pages until well into the wee hours of the morning when mum and dad thought I was fast asleep like a normal 11 year old. There is something so exciting about a thickening plot or a charismatic character and ultimately, a book that you can't stop thinking about for weeks after you finish it.

In saying that, my 11-year-old self would most likely have been reading 'Teen Power Inc' or 'The Baby-sitters Club' - hardly life changing fiction - but I don't discount or devalue what I have read, as I believe that any reading is better than none and the more you read, the better your vocabulary and literary understanding.

Plus, trashy fiction can be just so damn enjoyable.

Sometimes I find it difficult to get through a novel, but after I've read it I realise how much it has impacted me. A perfect example of this is 'The Street Sweeper' by Elliot Perlman. An interweaving, historical tale, I found the language fairly intellectual and somewhat daunting yet when I pushed myself to read on I ended up being ever so glad that I did. The end of The Street Sweeper is a riveting and haunting experience of racial prejudice and human connection.

I bought 'The Help' by Kathryn Sockett for $2 from an op shop in a small town near Orange (on my recent blog trip). Damo said he had seen a bunch of people reading it on the train and I was vaguely aware of my sister recommending it so I quickly bought it without thinking twice.

Like The Street Sweeper, the novel is primarily focused on racial prejudice, although I found it a completely different experience to read. I devoured the book in a number of days, unable to concentrate on laborious uni readings, my mind constantly wandering off to Hilly Holbrook and her detestable yet somewhat understandable behaviour (based on the context of the time that the book was set). As a white, middle-class Australian, I had no connection whatsoever to the black housekeepers of Jackson Mississippi but I felt truly outraged for these women. I guess that's a sign of a good writer - someone that can draw you into the characters in such a way that you feel somehow related to something that may not be significant to you at all.

I have yet to see the film, but it's certainly on the cards! Would highly recommend this book to anyone who loves a good heartfelt story of love, heartache and ultimate victory in a world of terrible racism and prejudice.

The art of places: Granada

Granada

Natural, tampered beauty
Sun beating relentlessly
Lazy pace, greedy colours
Wafting breezes of perfume and plates
Simmering
Sweltering
Art