Wednesday, 31 December 2008

random observations

Happy New Year.

I've heard it sooooo many times that sometimes its hard to actually believe it. But it's only now that i actually thought about what it means: they're wishing that you have a good year. its such a shame that its become cliched - because if someone really means it, that can be quite a profound thing.
I guess it's hard, in this day and age, to think about the simple things, how they may actually be able to make a difference to one's life. fact of the matter is: they actually can.
Seeing someone smile over something you've done for them, knowing that they appreciate it.
Watching the wind blow a gale through the trees while you're inside, nice and warm.
Having someone hug you when you're feeling down.
its the last one that makes me think the most: why is physical contact with another human being so important? i don't really think it should be, but then again, I'm one of the bunnies in this world that loves hugs. i guess, a part of it is being able to be close to someone, it reassures you. like, when you were scared or anxious as a child, you would go to a mother or father for reassurance, and they would almost always take you up into a cuddle and tell you its ok. maybe that's just me. i don't know. my parents, for the first few years of my life, would cuddle me to sleep. i was a total nightmare to put to bed after this though: I'd just lay or sit in bed as a chatty 2 year old, conversing with myself for hours, but as soon as someone came into my room and sat down, even on the other side of the room and didn't say a thing, i was out like a light within minutes. it's a habit that's gone on since i was born, and sometimes is a problem - i don't have anyone that i could just have their arm around me for thirty minutes or so when I'm feeling down. friends are great, but they're not the same. the emotional closeness of a partner is never quite the same as a friends.
20 mins

Tuesday, 30 December 2008

last nights dream.

He's stacking bottles on large shelves. They look like shampoo bottles. So many different colours, I think they're Redken. I'm sitting in front of him, holding a pearly green container, squeezing it gently, seeing how far it will compress. He doesn't want to look me in the eye, choosing to move sideways, to stack red and orange containers, so I have to move my head to continue looking at him. I stop playing with the container and hold it loosely in my lap, "Won't you at least look at me? Don't I get to see those beautiful eyes of yours?"
He stops restocking and looks at me for a moment, a fleeting image of sadness, then moves to beside me, filling up the brown and black bottles now. He kneels for a minute, totally focused on the image ahead. I put the bottle down and reach up, gently placing one hand on his cheek. He relaxes his neck, leaning into my hand slightly, eyes closed. I use my palm to gently turn his head towards me, and look him in the eye. "Can you see me? not my physical shell, but me? Because if you can you'd realise that I am nowhere else but here, right now, wondering just how much of this feeling inside of me is going to spill out. "It's remorse, and sadness, in the most part, but there is a pinprick of hope, that's wanting to take over the sadness, if only to help me believe that I can kneel here before you and know, at least in part, that you could forgive me. "
He raises his head to look at me, the same sad expression as before, the one he uses to acknowledge my presence here, where he knows he must converse with me.
"I don't get mad, I don't yell or swear, not at you. I hurt, though. I got cut, and this one's taking longer to heal. So for now, in part, I forgive you, but I do not stop this hurt because of that."
It's my turn to look down now, because with every word, guilt became stronger and stronger, until I reach for his hand, hanging by his side, smile weakly and say, with more conviction than I've ever felt, "I love you," and move closer to him, nervous that I'm pushing the boundaries. I say to myself 'stuff whats okay' and wrap one arm around him, pulling him into a hug. He stiffens momentarily, then relaxes, letting go of my hand and pulling me closer, hugging me back. His skin is warm as it brushes against my lips as I nuzzle into the curve of his neck, lightly running my fingers through the hair at the base of his scalp. He turns his head so that his lips graze my ear, and I hear, ever so faintly, "I love you too."
1 hour

Saturday, 27 December 2008

Outside {The Room (cont.)}

... She turns and stalks away, out a grey wooden door. Light streams through the windows, lighting up the wall and floor opposite me. I watch her go, stepping backwards until I bump the wall. My hands rise, covering my face. My fingers tug at my hair as my palms cover my eyes and I sink slowly down to the ground, tears running tracks on my face. I hug my legs tightly, pulling myself as close to me as I can. I face the left wall, staring at its peeling surface hopelessly.
Alone, the swish of the leaves moving catches my attention once more. I flick my eyes to them briefly before turning my head for a closer look: something catches my eye. My brow relaxes, the furrowed lines smoothing out. Here, it seems hopeless, yet there, amongst the dirt and leaves, swirling gently in the breeze, the light streams down upon the floor and wall and when the leaves move into the light, they turn gold. Just for a brief moment in time. And then they resume their usual dead, brown hue.
I stare at the door, a determined look spreading across my face. my eyes are fierce, my mouth set. I do not know what is beyond that door, I only know what is within these walls around me. I slowly rise from the floor and walk over to the window. Placing my palms gently, firmly, on the sill, i look out for the first time in aeons. The view has changed.
A bridge crosses a once-dry river, now flowing fast. Trees are no longer few in number and barren in appearence. They are lush and green, snaking along the riverbanks. Long grass covers the earth where forest or river does not, and it is such a beautiful sight, a single tear rolls down my cheek as a smile slowly begins to form. I turn to the heavy wooden door behind me, and take a slow, careful step towards it, as though any fast movements could shatter the illusion outside. The leaves crush under my feet as i walk barefoot through them, ever closer to the door. Finally, it is in front of me. My hand rises from my side, fingers entwining themselves around the cast iron handle. I twist the handle, take a deep breath, and push the door open.
The landscape is still here, the room i was in, a lone stone building amongst the beauty, a scar across its face. I look towards the river, and can identify the trees - willows, lowering their branches into the waters below. Walking towards them, the air is warm, the grass soft, full of life. Suddenly, I stop dead in my tracks: there is another in the paradise. They are standing by a Willow, one hand holding the branches, the other loosley by their side. I know not who they are, nor why they are here, but I have an idea. An impossible idea, but it fills me with hope. My strides become longer, covering the distance faster. A grin splits the neutrality of my face as I realise that my idea is reality. Breaking into a run, I call out 'how did you get here?' he replies, 'I was always here.'
I stop, four metres away from them, panting slightly from the run. "No, really, how did you get here?". He releasees the Willow branches and takes a step foward, into full sunlight, which glints off the metal, framing glass on his face. "I was always here, waiting for you to overcome your doubt and fear. Do you recognise this place?" he replies, sweeping one hand around him, motioning to the tree. I gasp, and nod. I know exactly where we are. " So, this is real, then? You're actually here, and so am I?"
"Of course I am, Olivia."
Simultaneously, we embrace, relishing the feeling of being together once again. Annabel believed it was impossible, that I would die before my daydream became reality, but here he is, holding me in his arms, and I, at last, am at peace.
1hour 45 mins

Night Rain

So it rained last night.
Wow. Whoopee. Who cares?

The difference was...
It was a thunder storm!!!

It woke me up at exaxtly 12:15 earlier this morning, which, ironically, was exactly the same time I got a text from Tom.
And the charger for my gorgeous new laptop was in and turned on, so there was a pale blue light cast over my bedroom - it was strangely comforting ... I'm now seriously considering getting a night light... I just lay there, texting Tom for like an hour and a half, listening to the thunder and rain in my alien blue light. It was great.
I should have known it was going to bucket down - it was bright orange outside during the last stage of sun down. Everything was orange and pink - weird!
It's times like this that I love holidays - if thaat had been during the school term I would have been really really annoyed at the thunder for waking me up and tried to get back to sleep straight away for fear of losing precious sleep.
But now, you can hear, smell and see the effects of last night's deluge - there are birds, frogs and insects all chirrping away in my garden and everything looks greener in the morning sun. The air is cooler, but still humid, just like it is in Queensland afer a downpour. I love my home.

So I just though I would post that, and pose the question:
Did anyone else in Adelaide get the thunderstorm, or was it just in the A.Hills?

25 mins

Monday, 22 December 2008

right now, i'm broken. so this is just a fast note to ask forgiveness for any depressive or angry posts. this is me trying to deal with a hell of a lot of grief.

i want to push everyone away, to lock myself in my room for a few weeks and be utterly miserable.
thats a waste of time.
i have to return to the state of mind where i'm excited about seeing people i like being around. right now that just brings one name to mind, and thats not much fun at this moment, because, like i said once before, i feel like someone i love just died.
and i don't like it. not one bit.

Sunday, 21 December 2008

untitled (a brief overview of my thoughts right now)

So there's really only one thing on my mind at the moment, and for anonymity purposes, I'm not going to mention it.
Bit hard to write about it, then, don't you think?
But I'll work around that, always do.

To you know who you are: I'm feeling kinda rejected, a tiny tiny bit pissed off and a lot more screwed over. But most of that I slept off last night, so I'm pretty well okay now. I'm still expecting to hang out on a regular basis.

I think I'm going to give up on technology for a while - or at least until i get some new stuff that I'll be able to sit outside and use - I'm sick of sitting in this same old room that I hate, at a desk that's too tall for me in a chair that's too short (though very comfy - its an armchair).
all I can say is yay for a new laptop for Christmas.
I've worked out what it is: it's the paint scheme in here - the walls are brick or a gross version of olive green. According to some people, I'd fit in here - because I'm an olive tree. O.o

Go figure.

It's 4 days until Christmas. People call me and my sister Ebenezer Scrooge because we're not huge fans of the event. I think, for me, its because of a combination of be being scarred by seafood (watching 7 other people tear apart a prawn limb by limb is undoubtedly gross) and my extended family, other than my grandparents, who take an interest by default and because they love us, have nothing whatsoever to do with us. The last time I saw my whole family together, I was.... 10 months old. And maybe, just maybe, a fair few of them were at my parents 40th birthday. But I don't remember much about that night - it was half my lifespan ago.
The phrase 'long time, no see' doesn't do justice for this.
When I get older, leave home, and have kids, I'm determined not to be like that. Even though I loathe my sibling (s) sometimes, as we get older I realise that we will probably be great friends once we stop living together and have to put up with one-another 24/7. I want my kids to be able to know who their family, their whole family, is (are?) . I feel like I missed out on a heap of things - I hear my friends talk about their family and all the great stuff they do and I think 'I have loads of cousins and second cousins around my age and a little bit older, why can't I know them like these guys know theirs?'. Mum's always like "live your life, we send you to a great school because of all the amazing opportunities they provide, both educationally and otherwise. Take full advantage of that, and give as much back as you can.' Well, I take my opportunities where I can. We have 24 people in my family that I know of, and that's just from what I've gathered over names mentioned more than once. But I only see 7 of them at least once a year (four of which I live with) so... This one aspect of my life.... I feel like I've missed out on. And I hate it.
1 hour

Wednesday, 17 December 2008


I worked it out on the bus home: I am so confused bout the complexities of my social interactions because I like to be that way - it gives my mind stimulation, and a reason to keep going.
Just though I'd put that out there ...
not that anyone would care, but that was a rather startling revelation for me.
and this is also the second shortest blog ive ever written (the first was my first)

Tuesday, 16 December 2008

the lost child

The wall is crumbling,
Defence receding,
Until a child appears,
Lost and confused
Amongst all the movement surrounding her,
That only she can see.
To the unknowing observer,
She is all alone in an ancient ruin,
Little light brown pigtails twisting
As she spins around on the spot,
Looking for a safer place than here.
Blue eyes flick over each ruined wall,
Until suddenly, she sees something.
Her eyes light up and she smiles:
There is someone out there,
Blurred, but recognisable:
Someone she trusts to keep her safe.
She begins to totter
Over the uneven ground towards them,
But their smile is reduced to a sad neutrality
As they begin to fade into non-existence.
The little girl begins to run towards them,
Holding one arm out,
Trying to catch them before they're gone.
Too late.
She reaches them right as they disappear entirely,
And she is once again in the centre of the ruins - they seem to go on forever.
She looks around once more,
Her legs give way and drops to the floor.
Silently, a fat tear begins to form.
It spills over her eyelashes
And rolls down one cheek.
Softly, she begins to cry,
Realising that she does not know
Where she is,
Or if anyone can find her.

Monday, 15 December 2008


I'm at a cross roads, and I have no idea which way to turn.
It would be so easy to turn back the way I came, because I know the territory.
One leads over the blue oceans and one to the Orient, while a third, the widest, lays directly before me, an expanse of straight, empty road.

One sentence changed everything.
I wish it had never been uttered by the lips I remember so well.

Scenarios fly around my head, trying to play themselves to finality, but until they actually stop trying to play all at once, they won't.
I have to stop and think about one thing at a time these days.
Too many complicated possibilities.

It's not fair to put so many possibilities in front of such an indecisive person, nor one who cares about what happens to others because of what I do or say, or so I've been told. Granted, it isn't always true: sometimes I'll say it because I'm too tired to use the filter on my mouth.

One leads to learned patience, a long loneliness, and a possible realisation that I've been tricked by illusions, or a very long-lasting smile.

Another is entertaining the unknown, across language and time.
Duration of entertainment: unknown, though the forecast involves a fresh face and a suitable personality match for the ride.

The third is a trip into history.
Knowing that the things once happened, could well reappear when I relax and let my hair down.
This is the most difficult road, the most dangerous.
When I try to look further down the road, it's misty, and once side faintly shows a green pasture, and vines in glower.
The other is a wasteland. The two extremes: pleasant, and broken.

If I jump the gun, and begin too fast, one road will close so fast I'll be fallen flat on my pants in the earth. Yet, take my time, and it could still close. It was a dare the first, chickening out the second, Missing the third, the fourth a mistake and desire as a fifth.

It's been called poison.
That word always makes me think of dark green vines with deep purple thorns, dripping with something acid green.
It's a beautiful word, but terrible.

Regardless of that, I'm still standing here where the winds of change are blowing a gale and a dust storm seems to be coming, confusing me further. I'll just have to wait for the air to settle down until I can see again, if only a little better than I can now.
30 minutes

Tuesday, 9 December 2008

year 12

It's here. I don't like it. There's something undoubtedly cool about it - being the oldest kids at school, having the most power (there's a superiority complex waiting to happen, right there) and having the teachers there for everything. It's like in movies when there's someone really good, and they have a white light cast down upon them, and the angelic music.... well... that's year 12.
But the light is fading and the fact I regularly converse with the younger kids isn't inspiring me with much confidence of the "I-am-a-12 - do-my-almighty-bidding" thing working......
Oh well.....

More to the point... HOLY COW IN A TOGA, it's here already?
I remember year 9, it was 3 years ago, to state the bleeding obvious, and I was having a total panic attack about year 10 - I wasn't ready to be a big person.

I'm still not

But I am.
Though, not like I thought I'd be... I'm quite content being me, the good, the bad, and the immature. The beauty of this now is that people start listening to what you say..... well... everyone but the people that really know you, that is. I'm looking forward to that...

It's going to be hard, or so everyone says. I'm going to have to make more sacrifices now than ever before.
Haha I reckon that if I deleted MSN and kept a tidy desk, my marks would sky-rocket.
Well... I'm not deleting MSN - it's my only method of communication to some people.
Well, we'll see maybe I'll misplace it for a while, see how it goes.... But regardless of that, I can't really appreciate the sheer task ahead of me. I'll just have to take a leap into the unknown, and trust my teachers to hold the light that I follow faithfully to guide me to safety.....
I don't like having to depend on people so much.

Oh well. Maybe just this once..... who knows, maybe, just maybe... I'll come out the other end smiling.

Observations from behind a brick wall

Good ol' wavelengths and psychic conversations... shame I dont get them with anyone else but one.
It's one of the times when I'm glad of my sister's lack of tact: she said exactly what I was thinking, 'Another walk, hey?'
It's true.... How much more blatant does it need to be when someone wants a private conversation? Fair enough... but for the majority of the day?!

Maybe I'm too boring or something, Maybe I have other interests than celebrities or who did what last saturday. Either way, I manage to set myself apart from a lot people, and I don't like it. It's like a barrier I want to tear down, but don't: if I do, I become just like everyone else, and I dont want that. If I don't, I have to live with the irritation of not being able to say 'thats rude' when its the truth.

I hate 'common courtesy' sometimes. It's like you have to have a heap of authority to actually be able to say what you need to without being chastised for it. Ugh. Oh well... Next time maybe....

It's like dad says - pick friends that you enjoy being around, are comfortable with and trust.
What he doesn't understand is that the social politics of school are obscene in amount.
I give up. I have a couple of best buddies, I guess that's all i really need to stay happy, ala laughing fits in the pool until you have to cling to the side to stop from sinking.

good times.....
30 minutes

Wednesday, 3 December 2008

Three's a crowd and Other Thoughts

A fast note before i get onto the reason of posting tonight:
Yeah, it got personal. It shouldn't have. Where's my rules again?

Well, I guess there's only so much one can say from the inner depths of their mind before it starts to get personal.
And even though I'm actually going to make a real effort to avoid that, it will seep into my writing. It just means that it won't be the main focus: it may start my topic, like it is tonight, but it won't be adressing anyone spesifically any more. I dont like to be bitched about any more than the next person, so that saves some of that.

.... Speaking of which, whatever happened to loyalty? Are we in the days now where, in order to become close with people, your friends, you have to be mean about your other friends? Granted, there are always going to be times when venting frustration is necessary, but unwarranted insult is obscene. But I don't really know what's worse: the action, or making it blatantly obvious that that is ones intention, via looks, words,actions, or tone of voice. I reckon I do a pretty good job in general, keeping it to a minimum. Others will emphatically, hypocritically disagree with that statement. But when I do, I have a spesific incident behind every comment, and am happy to explaion every reason as to my less nice comment. The fact still remains that its a really dumb thing to enjoy: it gets nothing done, only creates negative relaionships and angst. And, to top it off, if said person discovers that one has been bitching about them, it is never met nicely.

Three's a crowd. It sucks. I've always been 1 of a trio, and I never seem to learn that it doesn't work out: it is always one person taking the back seat in conversations, in 'best friend' scuffles, one being left out if only one was invited over on the weekend...
I was always that extra, after being the core of the original friendship. Another way to turn it around to myself is to say that I'm the cause of all my failed friendships. Mmmm. I'll pass. I'd like to keep my self esteem. I have aforesaid bitchers to erode that. I'd prefer to think that i just didnt choose my friends wisely enough. Then again, with the shyness I have a lot of the time, it doesnt really surprise me I was drawn to the more outgoing-without-being-too-loud type. But that's okay, I have people now that have that loyalty and character that they should win a medal for. In fact, I'm pretty sure a few of them have won medals for it.
It's a nice contrast: loyal, strong characters, and weak, disloyal ones that are around in the form of 'friends', primarily because the latter makes me realise just how great the former are.

I'm tired of thinking, I've decided. I'm happy to write, to paint, and do most other philosophical activities i usually do over the course of the holidays, but I've had enough of self-imposed seclusion. granted, it may be the reason why i'm excluded now by others anyway, but whatever; i enjoyed the last few summer holidays, choosing not to see anyone: spending a year in close contact with personality clashes is just downright dangerous, i needed the 8 weeks to get away to my own resort: home.
But thinking only makes me realise how fractured that which i believed to be indestructable, really is. I don't like seeing small pieces of what we worked so hard to build, fall away effortlessly. Maybe it's because i didn't work hard enough to save it. maybe it was doomed to happen anyway. i sdon't know. i tried to save it. it just ended up stabilising. i didn't, and it won't, go back to how it was.

that's another thing: why do people cling onto the past? is it because they remember the best bits of it, and conveniently omit the rest? well, no one has a time machine as of yet. no one has made the ability to become invisible at will yet either. I'm a dreamer, an idealist, and a realist. contradictory, I know. But I am also a practical optimist: I think like the boys when it comes to most issues: I try to solve them, rather than only give a sympathetic ear.
So, I think of crazy ideas that might work, then store them away if they wont at this time - maybe they will later. I have all sorts of ideas about the education system, the human rights system, world aid, its just a matter of getting them written and heard throughtout the nations. I don't bother with pie-in-the-sky concepts, like world peace (i know i just outraged most readers by saying that, but its true, if you look at human evolution, we're designed to be territorial and vicious to survive. its how gangs work so well. either way, its against human nature to be totally at peace, all the time.) but believe taht a world government can work if gone about the right way.

Well, thats enough for my ramblings tonight. Right now, the birds are squaking outside my window in the gum trees, and the last of the afternoon light is fading from the tallest trees. It will be night soon, and then come the crickets. School is over and I have a rather alarming magnitude of work to do for next year.
But that can wait for a few more days: my room's hygiene comes first. I don't mind sorting my room, it's the cleaning that annoys me: it means I have to go through every single green bag under my bed and work out what's mine, what isn't, what I should keep, and what has a very overdue appointment with the bins outside.
there goes 4 days of hard work right there.

But its okay, because with hard work comes reward, even if its not quite what we expected.

1.5 hours

Monday, 1 December 2008


As it stands, there is a little bubble of irritation in my chest right now, partially blocking off my blood supply. Last night, it was a big bubble of fury. I don't feel like that often. For good reason:
"Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret" -

So I write my thoughts here, like always, and will then express my opinion in person later this week....

How dare you criticise where I direct my feelings. Is this because you're trying to stir the pot? Or, suddenly did you realised that you don't matter in this part of my life any more? Shock horror! You're my past, it's time you stayed there. It's only 55 words on a 1x2 inch screen.
Only words. Why do people say that? Words can kill someone's spirit. break them.
Well, the fact still remains that these words, broke the last bit. The last little, tiny bit, that still held any kind of feelings in relation to you. I'm sure in 20 years I'll look back and say, "Yeah, that's him, he's the one I loved once.... he's the one that broke me. And this one is the one that picked up my pieces." Ya, I'm hurt you said this. But people move on. I don't believe that this is as simple as the upfront meaning, it never is with you. You're the one I've forgiven most, out of all my friends I've ever had, you were the special one. Break's over. I know you're my friend, and you may be trying to warn me, but, I really don't think you're the best person to be warning of making a romantic mistake. If I fall, I fall. I choose to take that leap of faith, that risk. Because, sometimes, it's worth the fall, if only for the chance at that which you're leaping for. And I genuinely believe that what I'm leaping for, is worth a broken heart. So, in lieu of that, I respectfully tell you to mind your own business.

45 minutes

The Room

She yells at me from across the table, her beauty twisted in anger and frustration. Her purple lips forming words I do not want to hear. She stands up, pushing her chair over in the process, the old, dark wood clattering against the dirty concrete. an image of dark purple roses and emerald leaves forming a crown flashes through my mind
"You have to open your eyes, you can't keep pretending, Olivia"
I look down at my hands, clasped loosely together, then my feet, dirty in comparison to the white gauze of my dress, brushing over the top of them. I cannot look at Annabell, because I know if I do, I'll break. I'll fall.
A breeze I cannot feel blows her dark red dress around her legs, adding to the alluring image in front of me: she is so beautiful, it is hard to believe her words mean anything, and yet, they mean almost everything in this desolate room. The windows are squares cut into the foot-thick stone, the curtains surrounding them hanging in creamy tatters. The walls are covered in peeling paint and whitewash. Dry leaves whisper as they move slightly in the breeze. The mahogany dinner table is to out of place in this room, as is the bright red rose, sitting in a tall, thin, glass vase on it. And yet, it is here. Just like me.
Long, brown hair slides over my shoulders, partially hiding me as she continues, "You are only hurting yourself and me by thinking that this can exist as it does in your mind." She leans on the table with both hands, "You're a fool to even think that you had a chance at this happy family becoming a reality. He's nowhere to be found, no baby will happen, no house, no life. Not here. Stop kidding yourself. Grow up."
She turns and stalks away, out a grey wooden door. Light streams through the windows, lighting up the wall and floor opposite me. I watch her go, stepping backwards until I bump the wall. My hands rise, covering my face. My fingers tug at my hair as my palms cover my eyes and I sink slowly down to the ground, tears running tracks on my face. I hug my legs tightly, pulling myself as close to me as I can. I face the left wall, staring at its peeling surface hopelessly.
I cannot get out of here. I know she is right, and who can dispute the truth?


Author's Thoughts

Maybe it's a bad idea that I be writing on here, for the world to see: it gives the people I know an insight into my mind that, to be honest, is sometimes irritating. Especially when I receive knowledge of a scathing opinion of how I run my life, when I'm trying to sleep.
Maybe I should just write on a private blog that most people can't see. Then only me and the few selected readers would be able to read what I think. but then again, I know others who like to read what I have to say (saz, christian, jim).
So I'm in a bit of a pickle.
Well, I can't block certain people from reading it: it's all or none. I pick none. I like random people, for the most part, reading what I have to say, and thats how its going to be.

I guess I started this believing that what I had to say might make some difference to someone I don't even know. Well, its certainly influenced my relationships here, and it's made me other friends.
I like having friends. There's not much more to say about it.

So, carry on my dear fellow, sprouting your philosophical nonsense to the world. Who knows: someone might actually listen.
10 minutes