Getting Over It

“I can’t do it mummy!” I screw my face into the Gold Coast wind as it changes. 

“You can.” Mum soothes my convulsing back, “When you’re ready.” Mum leaves, leaping forward over dunes to reach Dad and my sister, Skye. They play in crash cymbals of white and teal. The sun and his blue friends are mosaics in my vision as I compete for attention away from Skye’s brown eyes. Toes curl as my hands stretch from earth to sea, “Mummy!” A family photo pose. I sketch over the gummy grin with stormy eyes of Brisbane instead. Mum’s brown dewed cumulonimbus eyes acknowledge me two steps backwards to stride over the ocean pool’s coping. Dad glances encouragement. Walk! You can do it! His eyes grey slightly as I’m ferried to the water. Mum dips my toes in the ocean and smiles, “How’s that?” 

Guitar strings. Tuba’s lullaby. Skye sprays Dad’s eyes. Dad splashes back at Skye. Mum passes me into the green. I’m buffeted by cymbal beats to meet Dad’s Navy eyes, “See? Was that so bad?” He grins his signature chuckle. Close reflection in the teal, I gasp. I see sails and decks in Brisbane weather. He did it.

Reflections

I've lived for 30 years. It blows against my ocean brain hurricane. I learnt about the phrase, "Ocean brain" from Matilda Boseley's The Year I Met My Brain and I thought I'd start a series to show others ocean brain memoirs of 200 words a day. When the world pushes me, I'll throw it back.

I'm still reliant on my parents. They know I can be put to task, but my 'ocean brain' always crashes and rips so I need to be shuffled back to bed. My initiative minded strategies of impulsivity however seems to define existence no matter how much strategy I apply. When anything changes, so do I.

Its natural in what some may call, "cause and effect," "action and consequence," or as I prefer to call it, "Ignore it or God will remind you." My 'God' moment was my team leader asking me how I felt.

I can show up.

When I can't do something, well... you've read it. Imagine that but on an adult scale.

I'm used to welfare, not business. I'm effective at my role in service only thanks to welfare as I identify a larger need for welfare over business. Combine that with changes to out of control elements in my job like generative artificial intelligence in the workplace. I'm an artist, genuinely intelligent and welfare is against a profit's interest.

With the deal on rising fuel prices with cause and effect, what would you control or expect? I've asked every question Mum and Dad suggested to maintain employment before I resigned to everyone's suggestions.

I'm a Christian, if I'm good or not is up to God as I struggle to maintain an image for others. I feel elusive as a noisemaker, "trickster" in selfishness. A fox. I miss hunters of people, appearing a lazy dog but speedy as a quick fox jumping over dogs to be shot dead in the balls. I've lived most of my life out of business and more in entertainment and welfare to leave me disingenuous and sorry for myself, all whilst the ocean rises. That's what my job offered, good for someone else but something I'd have to resign to. I can't do it mummy.

I can play tuba. I can write. I've waited for something to happen that'd spur the horse to buck, but I forget I'm a toy cowboy.

"You. Are. A. Toy!" - Woody (Toy Story, 1995)