A post about the incredible ego of my ten year old self and thoughts about my favourite occupation



I remember when I was ten years old I would sit through particularly boring days at school and dream about the paparazzi following me with their T.V cameras and microphones and desperate voices screaming for my autograph.



I was going to be famous when I grew up, well definitely by the time I reached twelve. I was going to be the greatest author the world had ever seen. After savoring just one brain exploding, life altering taste of my genius, the public would be filling their garbage bins with lesser works such as Dickens, Shakespeare and Austen. I closed my eyes and imagined one of my devoted fans feeding Tolkien's Lord of the Rings through a shredder.

The feeling was glorious



"Roald Dahl has nothing to me." I said with a snigger as I munched on the remains of a soggy cheese sandwich at lunch time.

After the school day had finally finished I rushed to my room and pulled out my current masterpiece



It was a story about a rat who didn't like getting out of bed to go to school in the morning and an evil plot to take over the world by turning all technology into cardboard. I knew that it was the best thing written for the past century, possibly ever. With a proud gleam in my eye, I began reading my masterpiece aloud.

" Once upon a time underneath the cluttersome, busy, noisy streets of a grey city a wicked laugh came from the shadows."

The sheer brilliance was overwhelming

" A match was struck, making a red and yellow glow like a lit match in the gloom. Scrubbpot the rat cackled again and grinned at the thought of his plan to get rid of the humans and take over the world. 'They don't know whats coming.' Scrubbpot chuckled wickedly, ' No, they don't know what's coming.' Scrubpot was a wicked rat and he was chuckling because he knew the humans didn't know what was coming."

I paused. Something wasn't quite right. I continued reading

"As Scrubpot was still chuckling, he was interrupted by the sound of beeping from very far away. In a small, small room in a tiny city an extra small alarm clock was beeping annoyingly. This sound also reached the sharp ears of a person. Not a human person nor a person person, this person person was a rat person."

"Mrs Topembob the rat person walked frustratedly into the dusty, untidy room of her fat son. He was a lump of fur and lard and he was snoring like a steam train which had just consumed a rather large, sea sick elephant."


I looked at my masterpiece and a feeling of unspeakable horror grew in the pit of my soggy, cheese sandwich filled stomach, " Why aren't you as good as I remember yesterday?" I  said and tears began brimming in my eyes.

My masterpiece was silent

 At this rate I wasn't as good as Roald Dahl or even Dickens

Time past and I began actually trying to learn things. I Googled writing tips from authors I admired and read books on plot and structure. "Make your characters like finely ground fertilizer through pages of pain and suffering." said one "Show, don't tell." said another, whatever that meant. Slowly but surely, as the years turned and I absorbed the collected wisdom of my heroes, I began to slightly improve. Through this slow journey of improvement, I grew something which was before completely unknown to me. I developed humility. My descriptive prose and story arch hadn't made anyone put classic novels through a shredder and I wasn't rolling Scrooge McDuck style in piles of glittering money or being chased by screaming hordes for my autograph, but that was o.k.

I was just being me 

 I think this is what we should all try to do, not just in writing but in life as well.  Sure being famous for writing a best selling novel wouldn't be too bad...



But as writers, this definitely shouldn't be our motivation. Our motivation should stem from the sheer beauty and splendor which writing awakes, the thrill as trembling pen sets to crinkling paper and fantasy kingdoms from our dreams and imaginings take shape and unfold. The joy of pure creation. 

And also because its fun  

There is a reason why I made this post. Usually I like to keep my stories and articles at least loosely connected to heart disease and chronic illnesses but this time I wanted to talk about something very special to me. I find Writing to be incredibly therapeutic, its one of the main reasons why I started this blog. Writing fills a need within me, it completes something which I can't explain. I now know that I will never have the genius of Shakespeare or the descriptive beauty of Tolkien or the quirkiness and originality of Roald Dahl but I don't need to. 

I'm doing something which makes me happy

And in the end, that is all a writer or any of us needs 


-  the-average-cyborg-girl



Quote of the week



This week's quote is from the incredible Stephen Hawking 



"However difficult life may seem, there is always something you can do and succeed at." 


Comparing Ourselves To Others


Last week I was spending some time on Facebook when a photo caught my eye

It looked very similar to this


 


The person in the picture just seemed so... perfect 

She had giant eyes like a Disney princess, poofy red lips, squillions of devoted friends and shiny chestnut hair that framed her perfectly symmetrical, unblemished features. 

“I wish I was looked that.” I remember saying to myself. I gave my Burmese Kitten a sad sort of pat and kept scrolling down the page.  

It didn't take long until I came across another photo 




I studied it for a while, comparing myself to the face staring up at me from the computer screen. 

I felt so inferior 

I just wished I could be like that girl. I wished I wasn't me.  

The next photo I saw was of a group at a party



 I was sure that none of them had six monthly check ups at a pacemaker clinic or had to deal with low blood pressure, the death of a sister or having Cardiomyopathy. They had makeup and nice shoes and skirts and happy smiles. It felt like I was different in every way. 

I was jealous, really jealous, also I felt terrible about myself. In my mind it was like each photo was sending a message


 

 







Even though it seems like it, I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. At some point or another we all feel like this. There is always going to be someone who looks prettier, has more friends, is more talented or gets better marks on exams. Comparing yourself to others just brings sadness and the feeling of being worthless. 

I know

So what should we do? Should we smash all mirrors, permanently logoff Facebook and avoid all cameras and popular people on the street? 

It really all comes down to a choice 

And its hard. Really hard. Really, really hard.  And I'm really bad at doing it. So bad that I've felt like I ginormous hypocrite for even making this post. 

We need to stop comparing ourselves to others

Happiness can never be found though putting ourselves down. Happiness does not come from comparisons. I've repeatedly told myself that I wished I was normal, that I wished I was just like everyone else. I have thought that normality was something desperately to aspire, something that I needed to have. But trying to be "just as good as" the beautiful people in the photos was not what I needed. 

I needed self-acceptance and love

And that’s what we all need 

Why should what we look like or how many friends we have determine our self-worth anyway? 

 A couple of years ago I helped out on a disability camp. A lot of people on the camp couldn't walk or feed or shower themselves. The thing that I remember the most from the camp was the attitudes of the people there. They were just so incredibly happy. One of the campers in particular had an impact on me, we were sitting under a tall gum tree and it was a bright day with the wind making the leaves rattle above us and he said something which I will always remember.

 "You know." he said in a slow, laboured voice while he looked up at the clouds. "If you look around, God has given us everything we need." He smiled and got up, perfectly content, his left leg dragging slightly behind him. I kept completely still, back resting against the rough bark of the tree. I continued watching him as he walked away and noticed that he was trying to skip, just as if he was a young boy who thought that there was nothing wrong in the world and who knew neither pain nor disability. 

Why can't we be like that, why can't I be like that? 

We look at others and try and change ourselves, we try and become like that photoshopped model in the magazine or the girl with all the friends at school. Wouldn't it be amazing if we were like that beautiful disabled man who told me something life changing one day under a tree? 

I think we can, all it comes down to is a choice. A choice to remember it’s the inner flame, not the crumbling exterior that matters, the choice to know that we're not perfect but to choose to be happy anyway. 

The choice to stop comparing ourselves to others 

To quote Eleanor Roosevelt, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."  

I think there's a lot of truth in that 

- the-average-cyborg-girl


Quote of the week


This week's quote is from one of my favourite authors, the marvellous Roald Dahl.

 

“A person who has good thoughts cannot ever be ugly. You can have a wonky nose and a crooked mouth and a double chin and stick-out teeth, but if you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.”


― Roald Dahl

New Blogging Schedule!



Instead of blog posts appearing randomly on The Average Cyborg, I've decided to do something which goes against the very fabric of my nature.



I'm going to make a blogging schedule!

The lucky days are...

*Drum Roll*

Wednesday and Saturday!

Hooray!

So remember to check back on The Average Cyborg for you proper dose of crazy

- the-average-cyborg-girl

The post where I do some shameless self promoting...


This is just a quick news flash to say...

 Come like The Average Cyborg's Facebook page!

It will give you constant updates and links to new posts and pictures.

(I told you the self promo would be shameless)




A new post coming up soon! 

Thanks for stopping by 

-  the-average-cyborg-girl


I be a philosopher!


I'm now a philosophy student! Hooray!

This is what I imagined studying Philosophy would be like...




This is how it actually is 
















This sums up my first few weeks of university


- the-average-cyborg-girl 



Its that time again, Quote of the week!

Saturday, the special day of the week when I post a quote from an inspiring person.

This week's quote is by the amazing Nick Vujicic





“... to keep moving up ... , you have to abandon the security of that ledge and reach for another hold. Letting go of that sense of security.. is the challenge. ... think of yourself as climbing a ladder. To move to the next rung, you must give up your grip and reach for the next one.” 

― 
Nick VujicicLife Without Limits

Really inspiring!

Who do you think I should feature next week? Comment below


Thanks for reading this week's quote from The Average Cyborg, hope to see you again soon :)

-  the-average-cyborg-girl

I am cranky


Yesterday I was pondering deeply my past and present situation within this complex and vast earthly existence which we call life and I have come to the ground breaking and need I say soul changing conclusion that everything we experience, whether good or bad is relative.

 The eloquent title of this new post is, "I am Cranky", I now will inform you as to why 

I can't login to my subject for Online University and its driving me bananas 



 I may have a few tiny little insecurities about failing because I was bullied at school and yes, I will probably be about two weeks late starting my studies. 

but that's o.k
  
Its easy to focus on the negative things in life. Its easy to forget the positive in a storm of hospital visits and non-communicating University staff and frustrating events that drive you up the wall.

 I often find myself crying out "Woe is me, my life is just like those children from Lemmony Snicket's  'A Series of Unfortunate Events', except as far as I know my parents aren't part of a secret organisation and I'm not being chased around by a creepy, one eyebrowed man with a tattoo on his left ankle."

Everything is relative

To be completely honest sometimes I've felt bitter about having Cardiomyopathy, especially at such a young age. But then I remember there are small children with the disease, babies even. Who am I to complain when I think about it like that?

I have so much to be thankful for





 I have a wonderful family who love me, I have a heart which is slowly improving, I have the best cat in the entire world, a beautiful place to live in with wide open spaces with lots of sheep and a defibrillator that doesn't look like some of the scary pictures on Google images ( tip - don't look at these before an implanting operation, not recommended) 

It may not seem like it sometimes (a lot of the time) but the positives really outweigh the negatives in life. 

I'm still really annoyed that I haven't been able to begin studying on time but as I reflect on it, maybe if I everything went smoothly and I was reading Philosophy textbooks and asking questions on the forums I wouldn't have thought about this at all. 

We need to understand that while our lives can seem  absolutely terrible at moments, there is always someone out there doing it tougher than us. All we need to do is open our eyes and see. This is something I need to understand better, I think we all do. 


Thanks so much for reading another post from The Average Cyborg! 


Come visit again soon

P.S If you liked this post remember that sharing is caring :) 



One of the many banes haunting my existence


Guess what? I haven't fallen off the face of the earth!



And I'm really excited to once again pick up the pen (keyboard?) and begin writing and drawing quirky stories and pics for brand new blog posts!
I'll explain all the simply thrilling and mouth-watering details of my prolonged abandonment in good time (these details may or may not include a flooding of a hospital bathroom, a valiant effort to eat a burger with a pointy cannula inbeded in one arm and a magnesium infusion which resulted in a chubby elbow)
Before I relate some, if not all of these strange and mystifying events, I would like to tell you of one of the banes that haunt my very existence
the hospital gown
An object so terrifying it fills my heart with unspeakable dread


I absolutely and completely hate hospital gowns. 




And don't get me started on the nail biting, giant gaping hole at the back



They are unfortunatly a nessessary evil, but I'm sure even hospital gowns have good things about them too

 I bet they would be fun to set on fire



or maybe to use as a cape




In fact now I think about it, hospital gowns might have a lot of positive qualities after all

So with that off my chest, its safe to say that The Average Cyborg is up and running once more!


Thanks for reading this post 

- the-average-cyborg-girl

P.S If you like what you've just read remember that sharing is caring :)

cya again soon