Thinking in Yesterday’s.

Image via Hair Silver

Amongst a new found adoration for The Weeknd’s album, and a (definitely not new) love for the actual weekend, there’s a new tune on repeat in my little head at the moment.

It goes something like this: min. effort, max. effect.

I’m convinced there’s a sort of profound escrow, like an upside down u-shape of effort vs output. We think that more time, more reflection, more effort and energy will result in something better, bigger, grander – something to be ‘more prouder’ of. (That is terrible English, and I’m not sure prouder is even a word, but you get me.)

It’s a joke, because this incessant perjury of ‘perfectionism’ is really quite paralysing.

How many things are put off, delayed, revisited, re-discussed, redone or still left untouched because it’s still not 4000% perfect?

While I always thought a messy bun looked better than a structured ballerina one anyway, I’m learning real quick, that done, is more often than not, better than perfect.

I’m also learning with this finite schedule, that shit needs to get done. Yesterday.

Today my food for thought is this delicious nugget: don’t let perfection get in the way of progress.

We’re done now.

Imperfect, but done.



A “strawberry” kind of story.

Sunny Ridge Strawberry Farm, Main Ridge, Victoria

I recently ventured with my sisters on a “sister date” to a local Strawberry Farm. The whole experience turned out to be a lot more (wait for it) fruitful, than I would have ever thought.

You see, as I was making my way through the rows, upon rows of juicy, juicy, ruby red strawbs, I came across some not so juicy, not so red, somewhat demented fruity friends (did I just refer to strawberries as friends, I have officially lost it).

Then I got to thinking.

Imagine if one of the greenly-tinged strawberries had eyes (they have eyes now too? Oh gawd.), and looked over it’s more-ripened friend, and was just so sad that he was still pale. So sad in fact, that he started to hide from the sun under the leaves, trying to avoid being seen. The poor strawberry (in my head), has no idea that if he just stays out in the sun for that much longer, he will very soon be just as, if nor more scarlet red, than his neighbour!

Secondly, among the super red ones which I did come across – and wow were there so many – delicious too If I might add – many were not the typical, genetically-modified-to-perfection strawberry shape.

Oh no, there were some which looked like they had been hit by train, rolled twice, side-swiped by a semi, then poked by King Kong. They were certainly not “perfect” by any standards. But they were still, so, Yum! Like delicious in fact, sometimes even sweeter than the larger, pointed ones, as their flavor was concentrated into a retarded octagon figure.

I wonder if from these mutant strawberries’ perspective, they were bad, imperfect or unworthy. Poor things, little do they know they are more delicious than their “perfect” brothers.

It’s a sad thought, and a bit creepy to be thinking so deeply about strawberries, but hey, there is always a moral to the story, and in this case, a Dr. Seuss-ical lesson to be learnt.

(I apologise in advance for being so whimsical, I blame Miss. Mocrieff, YOU encouraged this!). 

So here it is, Fun Fact #256: You are delicious! Yes, delicious, just like a demented strawberry who isn’t quite ripe enough yet. If your not delicious now you will be, just wait and see. Just stay out in the sun, I promise you’ll be red and juicy soon!

Stay delicious. 

 P.S I am so sorry, but I couldn’t resist including this vid. Nikki’s PR are geniuses for me reminisce this song whenever I think of strawberries!