When people hear what I do, they call me a happiness psychologist. I really don’t know why…it always just seems redundant. It’s not like people don’t have brains of their own, and thus the field of psychology applies to them. Is this one of those turn of phrases that I keep hearing about? Maybe, but I’m definitely more of a people person and words don’t always make a lot of sense to me.
Anyway, some people have a bit of a rough life compared to others that are straight up stable. It feels like being sad gets passed from person to person like a disease. It’s just that people are often exposed to a greater degree of trauma than others. One person might take the long scenic country road, another along a dark gravel road. My best advice is always to get away from everything have a nice holiday. It’s amazing how therapeutic a holiday can be, especially to some place relaxing like Lorne. Hotels are the best because everything is taken care of for you including cleaning and fresh towels. I can’t recommend the great ocean road highly enough, it’s a beautiful location and something that everyone should experience.
Anyway, I travel around Victoria to anyone who has a problem and see how they’re doing. Oh, nothing like a full service, though that’s something I can do if things get too serious. No, I just make sure they’re still ticking, make some notes and maybe dole out some advice on how to make things better.
I guess the ‘psychologist’ part comes in, since I’m not actively treating the people; it’s more of a general inspection, or I might listen to their problems. I’ve always kind of had a knack for telling what a friend needs or when something’s wrong. Usually all they need is a few days of sun and sand in a luxury apartment in Lorne. I suppose in the end none of the stress really matters. People can say what they want. So long as they keep sending me out to look after folks, it’s still a job.
I’ve been struggling recently with how I’m going to set up the exposition of my novel properly. If you’ve ever met me, probably even just once, you’ll know that having this kind of a problem isn’t really too unusual for me. I’m kind of what I like to describe as the ‘struggling artist’ type, and it just so happens that my medium of choice is my words. But I’m nothing if not a perfectionist, and I find that the meticulously craftsmanship involved in creating a story is the most time consuming part of the process. I have to get every detail, every aspect of it, right before I’m happy to move on and put my vision onto the computer screen’s simulation of paper.
My most recent conception centres around a life changing series of events faced by an otherwise ordinary woman. In order to impress the sheer normality of her life, I need to describe the biggest event in at during the beginning of the novel: she is moving from one house to another. However, I’ve felt recently that this really isn’t as unremarkable as it could be, so I’m wondering whether to add another element into the mix. At the moment, I’m thinking that my protagonist could be working with a buyers advocate in Melbourne to move the process along. Nothing screams ‘uneventfully dull’ like an added layer of bureaucracy.
Although there’s nothing wrong with consulting an advocate, of course, I feel that adding that into the exposition of the novel will just add to the overall effect I’m trying to create. Working with a buyers advocacy in Melbourne is a sensible, risk-averse move to take. It should help to establish those qualities in my protagonist while lulling my reader into a false sense of security. If it does that well, it should be worthwhile adding it in, but I need to be sure it works first.
You know how your parents always told you that you were going to get square eyes, watching the screen for too long? Well…maybe there was some truth to that. I guess it’s because I’m coding so late and it’s usually dark, but sometimes I can see what I’ve been working on in front of my eyes like I haven’t left the screen. Is it possible to look at something so long it actually becomes kind of…imprinted on your retinas? Maybe I should get my eyes tested.
Man, I haven’t felt this tired since I was back in my software development course and my final project was due. Really brings me back, in a bad way. Of course, I wouldn’t even BE this tired if I hadn’t been pulling so many hours for overseas companies. It’s the only way I can get work after the business I worked for had to pack up shop. Guess once Lawrence Corp moves in down the street there’s nothing much a small business of six people can do, especially when we’re offering the same services. They probably have legions of software course graduates, and web design people and…I don’t know, experts in turning things on and off. The cream of the crop from all the best universities, scads of business and marketing managers to help them crush the competition. What can the little guy do, right? Still, our business dropped off like nothing else. I’m lucky I even had this software development course under my belt; everyone else was either an inside hire or were connected to the family business, so they don’t have qualifications.
Hopefully we can still meet up. I know Ranjesh is doing some kind of game design course in Melbourne somewhere, so good for him. I guess we’ll all just make do with being out in the big wild world. It was fun while it lasted. Still need to go and see the optometrist though, because this vision thing just isn’t going away. Keep seeing a load of blue squares and one of them turns red for a moment…and I’m not even working on anything like that. Weird.
My father-in-law is coming to town next week, and I am terrified. You see, I’ve been…well, fibbing about my level of gardening prowess. We talk once a week and he always asks how my garden is growing. We don’t have anything else in common so I’ve been telling him about how wonderful the garden is blooming and the new plans I have. He sends my husband photos in the post of his garden in Japan to share with me. He is a lovely man, I can’t handle the thought of letting him down and upsetting my husband.
See, the way I talk about myself, and the way my husband talks about me, you’d think I was blessed with gardening tips from heaven’s own back garden. Flowering Gladioli varieties, healthy Japanese maples, a lawn so neatly manicured it’s practically a lush carpet of vitality.
Yeah, well, I have none of those things. In fact, up until last week, my garden was a dirt patch and some overgrown grass surrounded by weeds. I couldn’t even keep the grass alive.
When I found out my father in law was coming to down I panicked! I knew I had to think fast. I got myself some help and consulted a garden landscaper to plant a bunch of Summer flowering bulbs. I even hunted around to find the right flowers that sort of matched the colour scheme I was going for. So I kind of have a garden now…but I’m worried that my father-in-law will know.
He has the senses of a hawk, and I’m wondering if he’ll be able to tell that the place has only recently been dug up. There’s also the issue of keeping everything alive until then, which I’m not sure I even know how to do. And what if he watches me while I garden? I’ll do it all wrong, and then he’ll know! Finally, there’s the new flower patch. I have nightmares about him getting down on his hands and knees and realising my treachery. My web of lies is about to come crashing down.