Baby steps.

Tippi Degré via Pinterest.

Tippi Degré via Pinterest.

“Whoever said small things don’t matter has never seen a match start a wildfire”. – Beau Taplin

It’s an interesting concept, the idea of ‘little things’ being big things.

I for one, am a huge advocate. Being small (in height), I’m pretty adamant on turning such a presumable defeat into something magic.

I’m a certified pocket-rocket, a proprietor of ‘fun-size’, and a 50 cent reminiscent ‘Shawtay’.

It’s fine, after 22 years in this bod, I’ve accepted my Latino induced height challenge. But that hasn’t stopped me from coining #bigthings as my motto for this year.

BIG everything.

BIG moves, BIG events, BIG meets and BIG goals that – if all goes to plan – become BIG successes.

Because as my favourite Beau Taplin has beautifully affirmed: small things can be wildfire huge.

Re: Change

In a recent article I’ve been poring over for days for Lot’s Wife Magazine, the true impact of small=big has kind of engrained itself in my head. I’ve been covering a story on ‘Live Below the Line’, an initiative run by the Oaktree Foundation to realize the end of extreme poverty.

Now I don’t know about you, but for me, I believe changing the world is a task that should be reserved for Superman, Obama or Angelina Jolie. The concept of little ol’ me actually having an ability to make a real difference is pretty jovial. It’s impossible right?

Apparently not.

Something as ‘small’ as me raising $50, can put some cute little boy in school for a year.

Small for me? Sure, I mean, $50 is hardly a new Kookai top.

HUGE for said cute little kid? Abso-freakin-lutely, it’s life changing.

See, #BigThings

Re: Goals

The good thing about goals is they are huge. The bad thing about goals is they are huge.

My Dad has always said to my sisters and I, ‘to reach for the stars because even if you fail, at least you’ll fall on the moon’.

The cool part about this is that our goals are inevitably set sky high, almost unattainably high.

It’s like we are gearing up for failure – at least without a plan for getting there anyway.

It’s all scarily reminiscent of the Year 12 teachers’ chime: ‘failing to plan means planning to fail’. So what if we broke BIG goals in baby steps. Small ones?

I read something recently that was like, ‘see yourself achieving a goal, and backtrack to what you would have done immediately before that moment, then before that one, and the one before it etc. etc., until you are sitting where you sit right now.’ I like this a lot!

As you can imagine, any #bigthing is a series of small, little things that accrue together for the final result. I guess it’s nothing new, but I’m learning it all over again.

Re: The World

Even on a global scale, little things may be pretty major.

I recently entered a competition answering the question: “How would you change the world”. Without even realizing the trend that I would be experiencing together with the ‘Live below the line article’, and my own need to break my goals down – my 30 second video was all about the importance of little things.

As you can imagine, I’m convinced the ‘little’ mindset can change the world.

See the video here.

Think about it, it’s 100% where change begins. With a little giggle to lighten a tense mood, a cheeky smile to convince someone you’re a fun human being, or even just a pat on the back to show someone their efforts are appreciated.

Take-away

So what’s the moral of the story S.?

Well Bae, I’m proposing we bring it back a notch.

That we remember the little people, and the baby steps we took before we could walk, run and jump.

This is where it starts, that is where real progress is made, and unfortunately, its what we seem to forget.

So break down the big, and make them small enough to eat in one bite.

I wonder if this was the motivation behind the creation of macaroons: So small, but totally inclusive of a world of deliciousness – I’m looking at you Adriano Zumbo!

So think you can do it?

Be small for the sake of being BIG. I dare you.

Love, S.

When in Rome…

Gelati Mafia

Gelati Mafia

Maybe it was inevitable that we would love Rome. I mean it is the city of endless love is it not?

Wow look at me, I’ve only been travelling for 3 days and the two Londoners we met on friday night have already imparted their sentence structure with me! If I were at home, there is no way I would say ‘is it not’.

So this is what it means to travel eh? Getting cultured, even with cultures whose city you are not visiting. Because we are definitely not in London, and we are not chilling in the corners of Sydney’s northern beaches or even at a sorority dorm in Oregon state. We are in Rome. But even in Rome, I’m learning so much about these other places, the lives that are led there, and most importantly, how the corners of the world like to party.

We were convinced our first night would end with the bottle of Merlot, a drink chosen not merely for the ‘acquired’ taste it lent us, but more so, for its affordability divided by four. An €8 portion of Italian gold preceded the night that would see us watch the midnight stars twinkle on the sidewalk, endless nagging of the DJ to play Iggy Azalea one more time, and multiple attempts to have a twerk off with two American girls who had obviously practiced far more than us.

As the sun rose, we definitely didn’t, and I’m sure breakfast, lunch and the snacks in between merged into one big pancake at the downstairs bar of our hostel, just the remedy and antidote for a day of getting parched in the Colosseum, being devastated at the ‘under construction’ state of the Trevi Fountain, eating our body weight in Gelati samples, and aimlessly wandering through the cobbled streets which were so perfectly representative of the Rome I have imagined in my dreams.

Pasta was essential, and Gelati was absolutely vital before we headed back to the hostel and greeted by our new pals, – from about 4 minutes earlier – gallantly adorned with trays of jäger bombs and mojitos. Soon the bar top was our dance floor and instead of watching the stars, we were racing through the streets, singing Beyoncé lyrics to policemen and bringing in the next day with dawn chats on the balcony of a room that was certainly not ours.

Confessions of love by beautiful Italian boys, the most amazing salad you have ever had, leashed dogs wandering the aisles of H&M, more Vespas than you can count, merging our mattresses so we can imitate an ‘at home’ slumber party, lattes that cannot be “skinny”, and deeming it acceptable to walk around speaking to ourselves in our best, elongated and dramatic Italian pronunciation of every word. This is Rome. This is love.

Glad-iators, Colosseum.

Glad-iators, Colosseum.

Now to flirt with the Greek Gods.

Why you shouldn’t date someone who does anything.

Image via We Heart It.

It seems that articles describing  “Why you should date a girl/guy who does this/that,” movement is taking over the world – or maybe just my news feed, but that’s essentially the same thing, right?. Without fail, the dawn of each … Continue reading

The Unapologetic Introduction.

Image by Demetria via We Heart It.

  My dad is simultaneously the biggest fan and blatant reviewer of my writing, and unfortunately I can’t help but mull, over every piece of advice he gives me. Being the most chilled father on the earth, I was absolutely … Continue reading

Just roll with it.

Jump in!
Image by Allie Cramer via Pinterest.

There’s something about leading a hectic lifestyle that makes a person effective, and I once heard that “if you want something done, give it to a busy person’. As we speak, my schedule is full to the brim with 3 jobs, … Continue reading