I used to be a dreamer, a romantic, a person of ‘if only’ who believed the word ‘maybe’ held the promise of ‘yes’.  Then I became an idealist, someone who developed the warriors visions of a better world or worlds, the way things should be, could be, with all the dogmatic passion of a rebel. 

Then I became the realist, never getting over excited about possibilities for maybes were now only maybes and nothing was real until it was really really real and happening.

I don’t think I got old.  I think I got grounded.  On the bright side I never became a pessimist.  As a realist the glass is neither half empty nor half full.  The glass is exactly filled only to where it is.  Whether it is by contrast, X, Y, or Z, who gives a damn.  All that matters is if you want a drink there’s one there or there’s not.

Nor did I become a grumpy old woman just because I lost my romanticism, my idealism.  I’ll skip and spin in the street with a fervour that might leave a five year old looking like a fifty year old soul.

And nor do I lack imagination or playfulness.  Realism is a starting point for satire, for surrealism.  You can twist it and bend it because you truly know what this thing is you’re handling.  Realism is about looking life in the face.  It’s about seeing what is there but also rarely presuming.  It is about never building hopes and dreams on maybes but always looking at building hopes and dreams with you’re own grit and shit and doing so from things that are real, tangible and accessible.

Don’t give me flowers.  I’ll take the pot plant.  Hell, I’ll take the seeds and grow my own plant, my own flowers, then share them with you without cutting them off just to watch them die in smelly water on my window sill.

Donna Williams, Dip Ed, BA Hons.
Author, artist, singer-songwriter, screenwriter.
Autism consultant and public speaker.

http://www.myspace.com/nobodynowherethefilm
http://www.donnawilliams.net
http://www.aspinauts.com