There is a laser focus and a clarity that comes when something you love, or desperately want, is threatened. We are, in many ways, faster, stronger, better in a crisis than we are as we muddle along. Mostly, we talk only about the adrenaline that comes from a threat against someone we care for. Sometimes, though, it's entirely internal.

The ability to get through my degree with minimal stress? Gone. In fact, it's entirely possible I won't be able to finish my degree at this point. And the threat to not just something I love, but something I need in order to make a living has been heart breaking, and a kick in the butt I truly needed.

At first, I did what the vast majority of people do when faced with a sudden brick wall on their sprinting route. I crumpled in a heap and cried, gnashed teeth, threw my hands skyward and asked the universe why it hated me. I grumped and hid under my blanket, and tried to resolve myself to the idea that it just wasn't meant to be. It worked, for a few days. And then I got angry. Who the hell has the right to take my potential income, my right to an education, and tick a box to say my mental illness means I'm not worth the effort it takes to educate me? Who the hell do these people think they are telling me that it's more financially viable for me to live long term dependent upon welfare than it is to get a skill set and get working? I get finances are tight, but three years of help verses fifty years of dependence seems like a better result to me.

In that moment of fury, something became so crystal clear that I can't believe I missed it for so long.

I was passively sitting around, waiting for my dream to show up. I was like one of those well dressed ladies in historical fiction; demure on her chair, waiting for someone to rescue her or give her what she needed. I have been living out the archetypal damsel in distress; that horrible victim mentality that meant that someone or something was sabotaging me, and all I could do was wait and hope they'd leave or someone would step in to magically improve the situation. Ugh. Not a good look.

That realisation prompted something else, too. I realised that all of that passive hoping was a goal killer. All that umming and ahhing, all that edging around, actively avoiding saying this is what I want, and I commit to making it happen meant that I'd never actually defined what it was I wanted in any meaningful way. I'd never looked at what would be needed to make them happen. I'd never stood up for my goals and my dreams. As soon as something came up, I'd back away. Does anyone else ever do that? There would always be a reason: I didn't want to be the bad guy, or hurt someone's feelings, or be selfish. And chasing my dreams? Oh my God, selfish. Saying that something for myself is my number one priority feels an awful lot like being mean to everyone else when you start doing it. I've been told it gets easier. I hope like heck that's true.

Don't get me wrong, right now, the financial side is a killer. It's entirely probable there will be a stretch soon where I have no guaranteed access to any source of income. And the idea of leap and the net will appear when it comes to meeting basic needs is terrifying. All I know is that playing it safe cannot physically work anymore. All I know is that I cannot stand the idea of spending my life struggling to find jobs I am qualified to do that aren't being done more cheaply by teenagers, of working my ass off and still not earning enough to survive without government help. I know that I will not ever again tolerate anyone telling me, or anyone else, that a mental illness means going without education. Screw that, I aced three of four subjects last semester, and only narrowly missed acing the forth. I can do this. I will do this. As of now, there are two camps of people in my world. Those who are with me, and those who need to be getting out of the way.

As of now, I'm chasing down dreams like they're gazelles on the Serengeti.

It doesn't matter how amazing the internet gets, I'm always going to love books. Whether they're cheaply mass produced or old and beloved, books are one of those things I can't imagine my life without. I love the sensory experience of books, which is something sadly lacking in computers. Oh, sure, you can feel each identical key under finger pad for a moment as you hurriedly type. But books have a smell, one capable of reminding us of long forgotten events and moments.

I love that covers and pages each have a texture to be subtly explored while your eyes flick over the words. As you read, your fingers absently move over the cover and the pages the book is open to. If the cover is embossed, fingers trace over the raised pattern, sometimes without your notice; subconsciously, you memorise the pattern and the feel of a favourite book. Even years later, you know the feel of the book, and running your fingers along the embossed pattern you remember the feeling of enjoyment that came from the original reading.

Each page of a journal is a promising expanse of white to be filled as you see fit. The tap of keyboard keys doesn't seem to come close to mirroring the beauty of the soft scratch of a pen and the rustling of pages. Books are a community experience, where people can add a piece of themselves at will. I have a book of poety that was given to my Grandmother in 1926. The flowing, beautiful birthday message is a trip back in time, a captured moment of joy and love. Her aunt searched out this book, took the time to write in it her wishes for my Grandmother's life, and sent it to her. My Grandmother treasured that book. Some books have notes and ideas scribbled into the margins, giving future readers insights and potentially, a chance to explore a different opinion than their own. Stumbling across a note included book in a library is like finding a hidden message.

Given how much I love books, it's hardly surprising that one of my 2011 creativity goals is to learn to make my own.

There are some beautiful hand made journals out there (here, for example, are some of the most beautiful I've seen), and while I'd love to buy many of them, they're also deeply inspirational. I'd love to create something even half as beautiful.

My (very) long term goal for book binding is to one day make myself a few books like the Book of Shadows in the movie Practical Magic (you can see what I'm talking about here). Beautiful, isn't it? What it is, at its most basic, is two books as one; a larger section and a smaller, almost hidden one behind it. So far as I can figure, it's just about extending the cover so that it's able to cover the two books easily and making it strong enough not to fall apart. I really love the notion of that book, but definitely not the price of it. I don't want to spend a couple of hundred dollars on a book unless I've made it myself. For me, it's ok to spend a lot on making something, but I feel uncomfortable spending that much on something if I think I can manage it on my own. The examples for sale I've seen are astoundingly beautiful- I possibly will never manage to make it that beautiful, but the idea of trying seems like a good one.

So far, though, my brave and wonderful need to try bookbinding has remained at the research stage. There's a wealth of information and ideas online, so much so that you could spend a lifetime reading the different ways of bookbinding without ever giving it a try.

I don't think I'll try the leather worked covers, but I've been toying with designs for mixed media covers. I love the idea of making sketch books or note books in various sizes; and at the moment I'm very into the idea of creativity based fundraising. I live in Queensland, and while I avoided being flooded, I'm feeling an incredibly strong pull to finding ways to help.

Two of my favourite resources when it comes to crafting are at http://www.instructables.com/ and http://www.ehow.com/. Both are free, and if you're thinking of trying your hand at a new skill, they're certainly worth exploring. So far they've given me a wealth of ideas to try.