brand new canvas

www.stainedfingers.wordpress.com
A whole new blog engine for hopefully fresh new steps in my outlooks on life.

I think everytime I reinvent myself, the hardest part is finding a new name. I haven't worn into this name yet, but I suppose I will. What is a name but letters strung together to pronounce a sound I'm to be called by anyway?

Today is lovely, as are you.

four and a half years laid to rest

Tonight, I close this.

I think I've learnt much over these 4 and a half years of restlessness, curiousity, soul-searching and very critiquing reflection. If you would so much as peruse through the first year or two of this blog, you'll bare naked my shameful writing style and abstractly riddled concepts. From being afraid of being known but wanting so much to be in 2005, my technique has changed yet that fact has not by 2009. I've learnt how to tantrum with type rather than on people, yet I have invisible readers who come here only to be burdened by my legible vomits of social guilt and self-despise. I don't plan to bottle these emotions having established writing as my relief from implosion, however, I no longer intend to dwell on them (although I doubt I could be completely apart from it, since I think I've become skilled at hating myself for my embedded narcissism).

I will birth a new page to empty myself onto, but all that later. In the mean time I will spill onto the "little appendix page"- but that one never held a concrete position like this one. Both blogspots will no longer manifest my thoughts or feelings, my instability or motion-sickness. These pages are closing. Thank you. Whoever you are, I always wanted to be read, but I never wanted to be influenced by my readers into producing for them, so I appreciate you being invisible (but I do appreciate you, "ritzy", for being a regular blog-support). This chapter of self-discovery I close and a new one I will open before the new year. I suppose when I'm grown up, I'll come back here (given blogspot does not collapse on me), and remember my insecurities, my joys, a few passions and appreciate growth.

Abba, this is all very uncertain; this something new I give to you.

Goodnight, my loves.
I'll write.

ps: life ain't gonna get any better, you are.

right.

let's scrap this plate and dwell in superficial for a while now.
i fell in love with this $150 adidas multitasking number.

oh and i dont want to write here anymore.

Dear God, I'm gross, look away but don't leave me.

What I can't stand, is how desensitised to counterfeit value and oblivious to genuine love I've become. The instruction to be in the world and not of it has fallen like dry words, resembling autumn's open morgue of dead leaves, for me to crackle under my every hypocritical step. I want so much to be away from here. Where can you find purity in this here perverse and overtly shameful surface we momentarily dwell? My best friends are loosing theirs and the children I love part-time are trading theirs for "something cooler". My desires of late frequent passionless, purposeless, faith-weak 'things'. Love is reflected less and less in the things I do and the little I do express somehow benefits...me. My prayers are inconsistent and mostly confined to the walls of the church. My church is lovely, but attending isn't going to satisfy my spirit. The church cannot drag me into a limp relationship with an Almighty God. Having reflected on the little I do and the much I waste, my disgust of my current position has me rushing headlong into shallow pools of rash quick-fix attempts to "cure" myself, or at least, slow my fast demise into a soulfully ugly. I have to stop watching tv like I do, I have to get over these self-promoting networking sites like facebook. I need to reacquaint myself with the fear of the Lord, because I don't fear him at the moment, not nearly enough to be quaking from my stupidity and half-hearted everything. Why didn't that mission trip change me? Why didn't the testimonies I cried over make me a better person? Why do I find myself at the alter week in, week out having ruined everything I tried to re-establish within 7 days of trying? Why am I here again? Why haven't I changed anyone?

I used to wonder how Israel could have forgotten all the good that God had done for them in years, months, days...but I am no more righteous than they, I am just the same.

But I know the perfect time for change is...

tomorrow.

butter fingers

oh geez, i love this clip, her glove is wicked. his style is admirable...i think



I'm attracted to the high life. Went to a fancy place last night, entered rigid and slightly horrified, exited having made friends with the bartender- a beautifull 23yo who made me my first martini . I loved it. I plan to go again, not to dine, but to sit at the bar, talk with my new friend enjoy the deco, etc, etc, occassion to look good, forget pretences, forget patterns and feel like a night could be worth more than my bank has ever held.

At present, my thoughts elude my commitments. I said I'd think about things, important things and do things, things that resemble responsibility...thus far my words and actions have not equated any of these. I daydream and I wonder what it would be like to be "free" - whatever that means - not confined by either my two digit bank account or my fears...and responsibilities.

Hello God, I've been avoiding you of late...
I need to find you or my limitless and pointless and selfish desires will consume me and I will have wasted much time when you by far surpass these. I'm looking for validation again and I know where to find it, I don't know why it takes me so long to return to you. Seeing my friends' apparently satisfying validation via other means deceives me. I have none but you here, none but you near. Now where's that bible?

ps: i'm not in love.

I think a misconception of regularity, but one of very common sense, is that pattern erodes meaning. On a very separate note, I think my sister's natural beauty is magnified when she's got hair behind one ear and the same shoulder and not behind the other ear with her hair in front of the latter shoulder. Sort of like half back, half forward.

...I think I'm going to learn video editing to launch my 2nd newest hobby, since my newest hobby was learning the ukulele and it appears everyone who previously knew how to play the guitar seems to know how to pick up and play my ukulele, I don't feel too special having learnt one song in 20minutes when kev learnt it in 2. That was too long a sentence, I doubt it made sense.

So no, I'm not in love, I think my particular sense of absence at the time isolated my expression of missing two friends in particular last night, thus appearing infatuated. Catherine Zeta Jones is -insert-selected-word-for-"very-beautiful"-...

I'll be in trouble tomorrow. I rather save the world than do my assignments.
the key to Hillary: eheh

there is no alternative

pass
fight
fall
try
dance
bite
fail
fly

I can't seem to make any of this comprehensive. There is no collateral. I have frustratingly lonely, seemingly insignificant puzzle pieces and the only concept resembling "sense" is the absence of the other pieces. All I know is that I miss you right now and I'll have to get through it without you because that's the only way I'll get to see you later.

You'd never know though, I'd never tell you.

I mean, I just did, but I don't even think you come here.

positioned horribly

seventeen pimples to outlive by saturday, two and a half assignments by monday.
who ever said life was boring?

the convenient friend

i just wondered why I'm interested in the people I'm interested in, and why I'm friends with the friends I'm friends with.

I think, for the most part, it came down to convenience. Beginning transitional stages from acquaintance to friendship were weighed with convenience in most cases.

I also caught myself wondering how comfortable I'd feel with a boyfriend. This was followed by reprimand as my past few days indulged in much wasted time and a boyfriend would only make me feel better about wasting time, which is hardly a challenging relationship. That is my fear, that upon establishing a relationship intended for the remainder of my lifetime, comfort would become a snare, clogging the crevices otherwise intended as friction to challenge each other, iron on iron. Having witnessed my friends find a comfortable rut to settle into with a "nice" companion, with whom all things feel-good accompany, strikes me at grossly pointless.
As is, my time is my responsibility. My emotions and moods and motivations are my responsibility. If I feel like dirt, it is my responsibility to climb out of that hole; if there are frustrations and difficulties, it is mine to flesh out. However, this paves the way to another fear I abhor, that I would become a self-made person, giving rise to pride, excessive defence-mechanisms and lack of trust in other people...not to mention failure.

I can't remember ever having achieved a beautiful balance. It's as elusive as the horizon.

Wahaha, apart from this we're-all-doomed-to-the-thousand-different-ways-of-perishing lament, I've actually got to get off my hypocrisy heavy ass and begin to do work. Today, I'd like to have ticked off 25% of my second last essay, learnt how to tune and play a handful of chords on the ukulele, gone for a walk/jog, written my observations from placement, returned a library book and I wont get too ambitious with my day, not because I don't like ambition but because I don't want to fail today, because there's been too much of it lately.

ps: i hate writing about boyfriends and relationships, but it was at the tip of my fingers and the concept is very bittersweet. I'm the skeptic outside looking in, who hopes to not have to eat her words at a later date.

sometimes i imagine i'm the director

my very very first youtube upload video montage:



This is a bad time to discover a new hobby...

wish you were here, ex oh ex oh.

My inaccurate thermometer points its fluro yellow finger to 25. I'm quite certain it's about 3 degrees higher than accurate, so I would believe it was 22 degrees in the kitchen at present. The house is empty, save me. The fridge hums a straight B note while the washing machine gargles and digests the dark clothes. Today sighs "indoor tranquility" while outside maintains the alter ego of a tempestuous siren, who who lure out the unsuspecting eager to enjoy a day prancing outside, only to get heavily burned and smitten with exhaustion and probably dehydration.

My gown-ish, dress-ish horizontally striped deep blue and white pajamas, I don't plan to change out of today unless somebody calls me to. I drove my cousin to the station this morning in them and they didn't have a detrimental effect on the world so I decided that comfort, today will be my abyss.

I wish you were here now. I just want to...be, just be and not do anything at the moment but just be...with you. But I won't today, so instead I'll see God for lunch and we'll have chats instead!

The tune I'm totally charmed by right now is Jet's "She's A Genius". There's something about the exclamation of the label "Genius" that just allows the receiver of the compliment to walk on sunshine. One day I'll be a genius, to at least one other person...(one could only hope).


Happy day chumps, we'll make today a better-than-yesterday!

ps: should I go to oaks day? and spend $50-70? and get sunburnt with the uni girls?

799

There's nothing like a light reprimand from an omnipresent God to reiterate how purposeful and intention-careful one must be when trying to be a salty representation of said God.

It was my idea to go to the beach. It was also my idea to drive a heck of a lot this week. It was my idea to offer lifts to who-ever in my last week of uni. My intention, I thought, was to be helpful to others, to use these opportunities to spread a little bit of love.

Alas, to my horror, my intentions were intertwined with selfish underlining. So today, in graceful nudges, the God -whom I love- told me to bite my tongue and stop complaining. He asked again who I was really doing what I was doing for. And finally asked if I wanted the words I say to have little meaning and to be in lines of irrational or throwaway-lack-of-authenticity patterns.

I didn't like my attitude. I still sort of don't.
I was, however, satisfied with this conviction and felt relieved by the truth of the wise, wise spirit who resides within me.

Thank God for God...
& beaches, & tie-dye skies in spring sunsets.

from my birthday 08 until now: these were the thoughts that weren't published. But the old me fascinates me and maybe you so i'll publish them now.

1/5/08
your beauty is beyond me!
and the day's been...interesting, all events aside. I was blessed a little more than usual today, materials and materials placed in front of me, things worth value in this world and laughable matters that would usually entertain me...so here, heres to another year, heres to the realisation that nothing is of worth to be aside from your love. To the yearning for something eventful to happen, because you make my world

10/05/08
i'll have the isolated dish, thanks

So it appears my appetite has dropped, or my freedom to afford it has anyway. No, not the money, though it does seem to have a way of disappearing unexpectedly. However, my hunger to learn about Love and the infinite definitions that we define it by has upped in its own ante. It seems...nothing is as it seems. Oh the cliche has captured me today. And i go through experiences where i want to be annoyed and cannot remove my peace of mind or the weak but permanent smile. OR i want to be happy but i cannot un-furrow my brow and the smile seems to fall off like an un-sticky sticker.

So, you told me, a whisper ago that you

23/05/08
Depresso Espresso now now, why get all resentful and disapointed.
Generation Y, my dear generation. you never fail to break my heart and make me feel it is acceptable to feel broken. But it's not oke. it's not oke. You're not oke.
Your too quickly disheartened and too quickly accepted for it.

29/05/08
i didnt understand today.
It was like everything that needed to be done exploded in a mushroom cloud.

1/06/08
i think home has felt my absence of late. i dont like being home to process the thoughts that bother me. so i disapear to somebody else's home. it is an easy procrastination. Plus, i enjoy the company of my friends.

09/07/08
congratulations on making it thus far!
I was actually in search of intelligent conversation and your name sprung to mind!

14/07/08
in all honesty
i think ive begun to feel my personal space a little crowded.
and i love yoru company, i just think i might've overdosed myself a little.

17/07/08
it was still about me

24/07/08
i wanted to do it. myself.

7/08/08
think im loosing my mind

what more can i add?
i might be loosing my calm also...

7/08/08
i want to close my eyes and not say a word in the safety of your embrace, with only the request "wake me when it's over".

07/09/08
75%

YEAH WELL...what can i say?
doubts happen.

11/09/08
They all mentioned their dues, the entire time he was hardly listening. One by one, stating something or other about why they were there. It was all a fog, he couldn't care about their concerns and successes, he didn't have the capacity to. All too quickly the talk came to settle on him, and the murmurs of the room subsided into a suitably eerie culture as he took the floor.

Nausea was not far from him.
"Hi, I am...new here."

"Haha! Hi New Here!" "What's your name!" "Name buddy!" The chorus of taints kept his walls up.

"It doesn't matter. I'm here now but I won't be for long. I'm just here, at rock bottom to find out what's holding me back"

"I've got the answer for you! NOTHING. You fell by your own accord and weak devices...like the rest of us"

He wanted to hit her but she was already at the same pathetic place he was and some sort of truth came from her putrid lips.

09/10/08
One more, she is a liar

13/10/08
I'm no local from this dark place, just passing through.
Just so happens today sits on the more beautiful scale of life.

15/10/08
he said "i love the smell of bridesmaids in the morning"
i thought about it, then agreed.

3/12/08
The want wishfully list:
-Joy in my Job for January.
-Fun and friends in the freedom of February till uni starts up again.
-A Routine to march strongly

16/01/09
all anyone needs to know is that what we do is worthwhile

22/01/09
This idiotic desire for senseless adoration gnaws at me. Just to be spoilt by someone(s) I could forget soon after and call upon only at will. I want to waste time, precious as is. I want not to care, to be the unrequited lover. So I believe it a blessing in disguise that there is none I hold in intimate enough regard to take advantage of this way. You lie to me and for the better, but I feel worse. Then again, feelings are like the shifting sands we insist on building upon.

14/02/09
I want to go somewhere forgotten, somewhere abandoned,
and allow escape to my frustrations through destruction.
I want to scream. Your lies are caught inside my head.
I don't believe you. I don't believe you.
It's funny now, I feel like the tide is more unpredictable and considerably more extreme than...I forget.

I hate what if's. Wishful thinking at it's most desperate.

20/03/09
My fingers want to type out stories but my head can't keep up.
I'm seeing my best friend today. She's something special.
It's funny how I call her my best friend now. We don't have to be close, and she'd still be it, but we are...occasionally.

28/05/09
I still wonder occassionally what would happen when love happens.

08/06/09
Guess I'll give it a try.
Can't loose no more time it's now or never

I tried to remember who I used to be.
I can't carry on like this I will lose my friends

Don't say that you have given up on me.
LOVE? COME BACK AND PROTECT THIS

I see them coming. Mediocrity and Melancholy

Forgive me Father, I know not what I do.

Yes...having sobered from my self-despise slash frustration slash forgotten security slash blind selfishness, I now see strikingly clearer. The dust my own feet kicked up has somewhat settled and I've begun to see the mess in bitesize and chewable chunks. None of any of my solutions (hopefully long-term and routine) have anything to do with anybody else. It's all on my head. This here child is wanting to grow up.

I'm sort of ashamed of the fits I throw, my implosions of senseless bitterness, my excuses to abuse my body (yes, I've acknowledged over-eating and emotional eating as self-inflicted harm and although somewhat amusing, utterly stupid and too influential of my daily handling), my obvious negligence regarding friends with the excuse that "they started it!" and finally, my semi-devotion (the much loathed, luke-warmth) to God. All of the above, I'm attempting to "fix" for the umteenth time in my hopes of being a better person, in my hopes of meaning what I say, and walking as I boast.

Heck, I'm a billboard for Christianity and I'd hate to think that I might so much as project a crumb of anything contrary to the agape love, passionate justice and absolute truth that God is. But who am I fooling? I'm nowhere near the sort of Christian standard that Jesus illustrated in his many parables and teachings.

So I'll sweep everything off the table and try and try and try again. Because we only live once and because my life is but a breath. But a breath, let me be one most refreshing. Start again, I have nobody to blame. Moth Teresa and Helen Keller (just to name a couple) didn't blame anyone. They probably had less means than I (save the strength from their depths) to change the world and ripple such a violent recoil into poverty's unequivocal hold on mankind- that continues to inspire many a hopeful also to wage war on selfishnes-, that silences my complaints. As mentioned by the mentor, in the grand scheme of things, how petty are these complaints...really. Go and dig up gold in the friends whose elbows are driven sharp into your side - yeah, go and get over yourself.

But a breath. No more, no less.
...I say all this now and I'm sure I sound very brave, but I...yeah, have no idea.

oh, do i make you sick too?

I've wasted so much time today, hopefully I can go to church in 45minutes and feel better about myself, the world and this wasted time. But now that I've said it like that...my feel-good hopes will probably evade me. I shame Christianity, don't I? I'll say sorry now and mean it later.

What are you doing, Nicole? You're getting fat.
Oh shut up ya face is ugly.
So BiPolar right now.
You're beautiful. Bite me.

don't be late now, don't you die

So you walk the stage, come to the mic, close you eyes while the drummer hits the sticks and although only four times, each one deafens your consciousness. The song's started, you don't know the words yet, but they'll come. You'll rock for the few who think you're worth the dime, worth the time. And you've never felt so unprepared in your life that you clench your teeth to keep down the bile. You can't be weak now, you can't give up now, and it's got nothing to do with you and everything to do with not letting them down. They're all watching, you can't let them down. If you screw it up, make it a fantastic screw-up. If the words don't come, sing the most incredible inaudible song that nobody can remember not understanding.

I don't know what I'm doing. But Heck, suck it up and play it by ear. Try to predict and prepare as much as possible, but don't be a selfish, lazy twig. They need you now. They need you now.

They need me now.

I need them now. (one, two, three, four)

To Whom It May Concern

I've never known a beauty as vibrant as the life you live
You inspire me with your generosity that in poverty, still gives
Regardless of heartache, you'd still find reason to sing
In despair, your entire life to Christ you'd bring

To those in my life who continue to teach me how to love, how to love unconditionally. To those examples of humility, faith and generousity who although human, hardly waver. For those who seldom give up and only do so to the Lord. Thank you for hoping in me. Thank you for praying. That you for investing. Thank you for your love. Thank you for living a life greater than yourselves. Thank you for your dissatisfaction with present life, thank you for being angry about injustice. Did I tell you I'd be honoured to be just a snippet of all of you?

Love much, your secret (not so secret) admirer.

Faith in its fullness.

This year's ambitions have hardly manifested from spoken into being. The two words I have seem to have trouble understanding are partway lodged in my throat and make swallowing everything else a little uncomfortable since those two themselves haven't been properly digested.

Faith & faithfulness.
Faith: being sure of things hoped for and certain of things unseen.
Faithfulness: sticking with it.

My latest complaint was that my university studies were a hindrence to me (yes, the maturity in that statement is overwhelming). Then, revert I back to memories of cartoon heros of my childhood who saved the world as masked crusaders but who never neglected to do their homework...

I want to be a hero. I really do. I want so much to gallop upon gleaming horse, with cape flapping in the wind to my world in destress. To defend those I love, bandage their wounds, give them souvenier of strength in which to later use in their own defence, etc and so forth.

But it starts with this essay...strangely enough. With the two more essays of pressing urgency following it. It probably doesn't make sense to you, it hardly makes sense to me. But being faithful in the little things means being faithful in the things that mean little to you...like the three 2000word essays to ensure I don't fail university and I do graduate as a teacher and I then go on to rocking the world the way I know I'm supposed to.

The end.

i hope i dance

So we pick up and keep moving. It's beautiful outside.
You're way cool. I've placed bets on you.

I hate, I love, I need, I want.

hello, my today was quite under-achieved.
how was yours?

I hate failing.
I hate not having the ideal, the perfect, the intention.
I hate that fairytales are so loved and despised at the same time.
I hate that everyone has to protect themselves so thoroughly as not to be shattered.
I hate feeling like this.

I love that my feelings don't change my value to just one other.
I love that beauty, real beauty has nothing to do with my face.
I love that laughter is free and smiles are healing.
I love remembering that there are people who have my back and who intercede for me.
I love that my paranoid hallucinations pale when I find refuge in the arms of a never forsaking God whose peace transcends all understanding, whose love is absolute and whose word is truth.

The truth is what I need right now. Your love is what I want.

It's nice to be adored.

As opposed to having to meet people aged teenager and up, the littlier successors of the human race have a way of trampling insecurities. I suppose it's the lack of "real-size" humans being available to guide the young'uns through the "how to"s of life- ensuring that the few who do are worth their weight in gold to the waist-height adoring eyes of primary aged kids.

Today, part-way through the day at our church's local holiday program initiative, as I went to wash handfuls of paint off my hands and attempt to wash it off my dag-knit jumper, I caught the reflection of my far-from-glamorous surface. It was one of those I-look-so-unimpressive-I'm-impressed days but I just smirked and continued scrubbing my hands and the elbows of the kids around me, totally grateful of the adoration I had absorbed in one day alone (especially from the girls who think the world of me). I don't even think the world of me! These girls are more beautiful than I yet they are blind to my ugly days! It's like I can't be ugly enough for these children! It surprises me how people wouldn't be climbing over each other for the opportunity to bathe in the smiles and laughter of the fresh and innocent!!

It amazes me firstly that God would delight in me like he does, that he would somehow see a beauty beyond my understanding. But what stuns me further is that there are a handful of humans who would similarly adore me! I'm not exaggerating when I say, "Today I looked like crumbs", yet when I pulled up a few chairs to sit behind the children, they rallied to the empty seats beside me because...
because for some reason they wanted to be near me, around me, with me...like me.

With that reason alone, I cannot excuse myself from doing the very best with life as I possibly can. I not saying that I am their one and only salvation, but they hope in me, the little they see of me - they mimic and learn from. I've so far to go - but if I could pave the way for these adorable adorers, I would. I will. I am.

I can't stop saying it lately, I love these children.

post number five oh five

i'm exhausted.
to say the least.

i've also fallen in love with these children again.
i hate that these two weeks of holidays will exhaust me further. That I am required to pace myself to fit in three assignments as well as find time to take a couple of these kids out, to organise a team meeting for the volunteers involved and to prepare myself for the three weeks of full-time practicum placement at a brilliant childcare and establish my etsy (and hopefully also a source of income).

The to-do list for monday (today) alone has left me winded and achy eyed.
Funny how the desires we strive for leave us wondering how much we actually have within ourselves to accomplish. But I know, these dreams are too big for me alone, I'm just yet to realise the team I'm to work alongside.

SO CMON!
I'm about to have my world rocked and you're going to be jealous!
LET ME HAVE IT.
wahahaha! this will either kill me or prove that my God is the God of the impossible. The key is to have completed all these things with smiles and laughter, through trial and error.
So the joy of the Lord is my strength and the joy of the Lord is not circumstantial, so HOW HARD CAN IT BE?

ps: I read an article on divorce and I think it's quite possibly worse than murder. I'd rather die than ever get a divorce...but that's another story (and no, I don't plan on marrying a dishonest or psychopath or gangland or abusive husband).

hmm...marriage...
i met two stunning women the other day who both married at age twenty. i'm twenty. i've never fallen in love. sort of makes me wonder...

the real, the hurting, the ever there and inconsistently apparent: love.

years ago i made a pact with two dearly beloveds that i was tonight reminded of. so overwhelming was the memory of repetitive promise (that this one year of somewhat lack of emphasis had dammed up) that i couldn't decide why i was crying. whether because it was of what i had had, what i had missed, the reality of that promise or the reassurance of them there or the unveiling of accumulated hurt or remembered appreciation- i don't know. tonight quite possibly touched all of these. but i've been freshly reacquainted with friends. the real-est friends i ever knew and hardly gave deserved mention to.

i will always care for you, even if caring does and will continue to hurt.

ps: i have never worn a dress as short as the one i wore yesternight. my company assured me it was hardly as short or noticeable as the other girls' whose were shorter still. Though I'd hardly call that a justification and hope never to do so again. Hoping you won't judge me if ever you glisp a still-frame of that night.

between you and me

I'm going to be pretty on saturday. I've already told myself and I'm half excited, half afraid of what I'm getting myself into. I haven't partied in ages. I actually don't really know how to. Well I do, I go off my nut with excitement (no influences needed), but the looking pretty part. I'm torn because I really wanna look the part- I love the persona's we attach to dress up parties, I love the realm of pretending. But the make-up and the unbecoming dress of a tempestuous character...I just need to make sure that the people who know me don't see me. I'm kidding! I won't be a trash of a lady! In fact I'll do my part to be as sophisticated glamorous as I can. Though the face requires a fair edit. So, on saturday, I'm going to be a 1920's flapper gal. Surprised? I'm too shy to ask for help with make-up so I've gone through a gossip mag and cut out 14 pairs of eyes that I like and I'll have hopefully accumulated enough willpower and coordination to not destroy my face come that eventful evening.

For those who know me well and as the tom-boy who doesn't wear make-up (opposes it in fact), don't despair. I'm not turning into a cake-face frequent girly girl. It's sort of the once off. It's the curiousity and the "when nobody's looking I do actually wonder what I'd look like if I knew how to wear make-up".

Then at mid-night, much like Cinderella, I and my posse flee the venue before the mazda is reduced to a watermelon and my party euphoria ravished by Father. Also, this is my first time as designated driver! Oh, let the childish excitement of responsibility zip through me! YEAH YEAH YEAH! party farty me! But this is all between you and I.

my uncomforts

i want to vomit but i have nothing to vomit

i want to sleep but i have no time for it

i want the comforts of last week, yet do not live in regret or the past

El Shaddai, I am ever wanting - you are at the top of that list.

I keep telling myself this life is but a breath - so the uncomforts hardly shadow eternity.

but.
a.
breath.

God made maths so humanity would agree on at least one thing.

I am aware that sometimes I swing a little far right and then a little far left, and somehow via trial and error, I find the balance...usually. Or what sometimes appears as compromise, which arguably cheapens both "extreme" beliefs. Or makes peace with.

There are so little correct answers in life, except in maths, which is why I like math. because I can know if I'm right or not and know that there is an absolute truth in calculations.

Maths and God. The only two truths that I think I'll categorise as concrete for the entirety of my life. Perhaps when I grow up, I'll be a godly mathematician, after all, I've always fancy absolutes.

i'm an alien.

after dropping suz off at work at chaddy, i thought it worthwhile perusing the first batch of fresh renovations, also keeping an eye on casual vacancies in certain windows interspersed throughout the centre.

i exited totally horrified.

somehow my own reflection thrown back at me from shop windows was distorted and ugly enough. as my pace quickened, i wanted just to be invisible because of the increasing insecurity that began gnawing at my sanity. i think the safest few seconds i felt was when i visited andy at the apple store and although he was too busy, he smiled at me and i felt a little less disgusting; and when i farewelled suz and she sent a hearty "hey" with added smile my way, she too was too busy to afford me any conversation afterward. walking out, i sighed relief all the 50metres to the car, appreciating the breeze of the 3rd last winter day- thanking the outdoors for freedom from an intoxicated and greedy bubble bought with invisible money on plastic cards.

i think my accidental detox from big centres of considerable dollar value had my little exploration come like culture shock to me. i'm too poor to appreciate these now. i'm a little bit hypocrite because i still have urges to spend, though none exceeding the five dollar per item mark. i suppose my imagination made up the masses of people swirling around me with greedily glazed eyes only focused on what next to buy. i honestly felt that if i were to stay more than three hours in the place, i too would've been hypnotised by the deception that spending money and spending money with friends and family was the purpose to life.

there's a high chance i'm being an idiot or that the paranoia of sleep deprevation is consuming me.

but i'm pretty sure the place reeked of greed. i used to live like that. now i wonder what stink i would've produced, working only to accumulate enough for that "other thing" which i apparently needed so badly. i've been desensitised so long.

i have a moral delemma. i have no money and therefore need a job to support myself as it's unfair for my parents to continue providing for me when i'm twenty years old because i have expenses i committed myself to which i would irresponsibly fail to meet if not for my gracious parents. however, after this afternoon, i don't want to go back. i don't want to work in that sort of environment. eighty percent of the sales assistants in the stores i walked into thought they were better than me - i know because their smiles were plastic and their inquiries, insincere.
the shop i wouldn't mind working at is oxfam - it being fairtrade and all.

anyway - i don't want to work in retail very much anymore. i want willingly to break my ties with consumerism, materialism and all things superficial. God, save me from this.

God,
save me from this.
Amen.

growing pains

I can't do this alone. But then again, I'm just passing through here...

And God permitting, we will do so. Hebrews6:3

It's one something pm in the afternoon and I feel heavy. So much more utterly exhausted than I remember being excited at the beginning of this week. The hardest stone to swallow is to acknowledge that although I feel like I've worked myself to no end with non-stop this and that's, when looking at the fruits of my labour, they are small...oh so very small. Looking out at the square mile of land I know needs toiling and digging and planting and watering and singing and loving is paralysing. I cannot wait till tomorrow- I might finally, the for first time, personally appreciate the Sabbath. That lovely day of rest I never understood was necessary. I don't even deserve it. I haven't created a whole new world full with incredible creatures and self-sustaining life forms in the past six days. I just want to crawl into the hug of an Almighty God, who could replenish my dry stamina with hope, purpose and love...so much love. I had forgotten how much loving people uses of your own when you forget you thirst for it to be returned. My throat is dry and my eyes are dark. But it's only been a week. I can't believe I'm this weak.

i can't decide what i feel.

The days, of late, have been gaining weight.

Not the sort of unwanted weight that girls exclaim as they examine their thighs. But the sort of weight that burns as you wake up with DOMS from a previous night of extreme exercise. Like the weight of urgency and the need to not waste time anymore. The exhaustion of productivity and the challenge to extend stamina. The discovery of efficiency and the want to be useful, knowledgeable and influential.

I heard the most beautiful acapella this afternoon on the radio. It was like...the wisp of a hearty and delightful aroma, warming and enticing...and unknown. Oh, what I'd give to learn of the song. I can't even recall any such lyrics. All I know is it was on Radio Eastern 98.1 FM about 12:30/1ish. Yes. It created the perfect condition with sunshine streaming in the window as I drove my shoddy little red, feeling all my cares evaporate, for as long as the 2 minutes song would free me.

I miss 70% of my friends. Because I hardly see them anymore. But I'm loving my new found freedom-purpose-productiveness. Sadly the two sort of collide.

I'll balance them later and sleep for now.

she's so highhh, high above me, she's so lovely

my best friend is stunning.

Why can't I be beautiful like her? MY MOH.

cost.

Unbeknownst to me, you gave everything I couldn't imagine,

when I couldn't give a damn.

from thought to type

I think I'm the biggest critic when it comes to the love between a man and a woman.

I'm also terrified of what on earth is happening everywhere around me. Such a deep sorrow has burrowed and made my heart it's home. I don't understand why. But pangs of heartbreak come in bouts every few days, sometimes at church, sometime when I'm alone. But I'm so afraid. Right now, I'm so afraid and disgustingly vulnerable. But when I feel my tear ducts well with salty water, I remember my children, whom I don't know very well. I think I'd die if something happened to any of them just because I forgot to care the past few months.

It's not good enough. My excuses, your excuses. It's not good enough. Because people are holding onto you. Because people rely on you. Because somewhere, somehow you proved you could be trusted, and someone sometime decided to hope in you, to believe in you and to give a little bit of themselves to you, for you to protect. So protect it with all you have! Because you have parts of your friends that will be destroyed if you are. You need to preserve the love, the hope, the joy that you have. You need to fight harder.

I need to live on behalf of the few friends of mine who are dying.

Somewhere in the only book I can trust, somebody wrote: Perfect love drives out all fear.
I cannot be afraid anymore. I don't have reason to. I am loved in perfect amounts. Peace.

return of the prodigal

One Republic wrote a song called Prodigal, I think it colours in the outline of my headspace brilliantly. I've been away and disconnected for a little, I can't even categorise, let alone remember in comprehensive sequence what on earth has happened since the last while - I don't even know how long it went for, only that I pray it is over. It wasn't bad, whatever it was, I just don't appreciate the fog of uncertainty and the chaos of not understanding.

Oh, a friend of mine has disappeared to Japan to begin to do the things he dreamed of...he'll be gone indefinitely. He is the strangest character, almost; and one so very rare. He is also the closest thing to loss I know. I have never lost a friend to another country for more than a few months, nor death - thank God. But now, I have a friend, close enough, to now experience missing on a consistent basis. It hasn't even been a week and I crave his company. I spent near to everyday of the last week seeing him, and now have at least another couple of years til reunion.

I also have little to amuse you with, dear reader. I have minimal fruit in which to juice inspiration from, I think this little while will be for me to observe, rather than narrate. But then again, I've said this before.

My friends are changing, my family is changing, as both individuals and as a collective, respectively.
There is no doubt in my mind that I will also.
I say with cringe that my world is about to change.

Today, I crashed

It was probably as good a day as any to crash a car. I crashed our 10year old family car at midday due to driver’s error and illegal activity. Yes... I confess with much shame: I was on my mobile phone. I think I’m just thankful as heck that my carelessness caused no harm to anybody else. I hit a pole. Did you laugh? Did you smirk? I don’t blame you. My carelessness has been a good lesson, sort of one of those occasions we speak of being “only being a matter of time”. What scares me is the curiousity had I not had to face the error of my ways today, if my sliver of conviction regarding the matter would have completely evaporated...

There’s something about the injuring of machines bigger and stronger than you that gently reminds us that being human is no guarantee of invincibility. There. It took about 3 seconds for my eyes to float to my bar of radiation (and for my left over high from the previous night of absolute euphoria) to shrivel like oysters in summer’s sun.

At the time I didn’t think I was so affected. I like to think of myself as a rather resilient and collected character. So I didn’t know how to categorise my emotions or how to recognise most of the symptoms of fear, especially as I wouldn’t usually consider them relevant hours after the incident. Because the fortunate and sheltered life of a middle-upper, living-with-parents twenty-year-old, faces minimal traumatic experiences. And this, this was small. This was no more than the excess of $900 and a week without one of four cars. I saw no casualties, I felt no pain. I only suffering the complaint that the few friends I turned to for emotional comfort/support had reason or another to... not provide sufficient shoulder. But it’s nothing I haven’t already begun to heal and forget. Every little bruise we home on the stretch of our skin fades and is forgotten, because we shed our old skin, little at a time. And forgiveness makes us stronger. I just hope I am a more discerning and understanding friend – though if I'm not, it's no surprise.

If I do have readers on this here canvas of white internet space, they are most probably my friends or people I know who are, likewise: fortunate, sheltered, middle-upper twenty-year-olds.

I want all of you not to use or even pay attention to your phones while driving, it’s dangerous. Secondly, appreciate life on my behalf. Today, I crashed, felt much more sober than I did yesterday; and as vulnerable as any human could, when realising their skins are weaker than composite metals, glass and rubber molds.

i love my God

i actually just want to sleep.
Because today was much emotional and spiritual- sprouted from little anticipation, expectation and a reluctant waking. nonsensical reasoning and lack of fluidity. tired eyes from an hour of despair and chaos and &lazy letters, missing Capitals.

the morrow brings me no hope of securing money wise. all my shifts were cancelled, save the first- which thankfully cannot be undone. but i am somewhat secure of my...self. though my body continues reacting to my torturous mutilation via junk food and fitness ban; and my positioning with different friends becomes confused. i am momentarily steady, and beautifully satisfied...and my both rich and poorness challenges the way in which i think, buy, habitual, nothing and everything.

the less sense i make tonight i intend to justify in dreams.
The night is good.

belonging.

She had lately cut down contact with half of her friends because she was confusing everyone. Now things were a little clearer, a little simpler, a little less. Now, the denial that she used to shield herself with was fast deteriorating. Her comfort circle were 2 hours and a weekend away and she was arguably alone. So, she turned up the music and danced. Her pen gliding on gingerly lined empty pages. Her lens freezing the portrait of sunlight's neglect upon her neighbourhood.

Meanwhile, the delicate pages of a historic love story called her to let go of loneliness' hand. There was only purposefulness (or lack thereof) between victory and depression. The sad song, lamented beautifully on repeat- singing hinting harmonies "...with you is where I belong"; repeatedly pressing onto memories of previous strengths, nudging her to step into puddles of courage and feel the relief of balance, of supported position, of identity.

I belong to you.
I know.
I do.

I know too well the deception of my circumstance and it's hallucination of incompleteness (I just forget). I also know that others fall victim to this loneliness and its related depression all too frequently. So I'll do what I can to counter it. I am not helpless. I am not. I belong, and you do too.

"Back off loneliness and, hello tenderness. I've been waiting for your call..."
If it rains, it is for you to dance to. If the sun shines, it is for you to bask in.
If neither, the weather was shy because you are beautiful.

strength unseen

There are multitudes of girls/women/children/people i know who face terrors daily; pain I could never imagine.

But you'd never hear it in their voice, you'd never see it in their eyes. You'd never know from their laughter that they endure growing up without a father, because a few years ago, he was the taken by tragedy.

.

So instead of being heartbroken, be inspired.

Rather than sympathising, learn and support, give and encourage.

.

They give me reason.

They smile and I can't resist.

You beauties.

my wholegrain jerk & a pinch of salt.

It's funny how things change. I never saw it coming. The guy who used to call me his favourite girl and spoil me with compliments of beauty, now can't stand the thought of me...or so it seems. I thought the last conversation we had put to rest this indignified venom that poisoned one of my best friends...or me. In anycase, we're nearly illergic to each other now.


I tried tonight. I was trying to ask (subtly and cautiously), if we could see each other this weekend, but the words stopped in my throat as his attack tore my initiative to shreds. I don't think he realised I was actually willing to say back, although everyone was going on a roadtrip because there was a chance we could have coffee or the like. I don't want to go to the roadtrip because I don't want to ruin it for him. I think he'd do better without me threatening his enjoyment. I don't think I realised before what an immature twerp he was; you are a jerk, but I love you nonetheless. I suppose you always had the potential, you always told me stories of the girls you mistreated, but I was never one of them. How the tide has turned!

Don't worry about me (not that I expect you to ever, again), I take you're insults with a grain of salt, I'll become immune to your poison - because that's how it works...one could only hope.

prevent, cure, belong.

An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

This song is sad. It is beautifully sad, perfectly heartbreaking - resolved by a known incompleteness.


I cannot relate - thank God. But it still makes me sad. I wish to tell you though, that if you didn't loose yourself in the heartbreak of humanity's [sadly frequent] wear&tear, that we'd find somewhere to belong. We will. At least find somewhere, if not create somewhere.

I think... I've just fleshed out the cause I've been irked by because of its blurred identification of, until now.
For a little while lately, I've wanted to do something - to be worth my weight in golden comfort to a devastated and broken world. But I wasn't able to remodel "world peace" into my own words; which I honestly believe you cannot act upon until you've struck the chord in your heart that pains you enough to do/fight/protect accordingly.

So, lets just begin with the rough copy: To build/create/establish a place where the world of misfits (namely, the entire world) could belong, where insecurities could be eradicated by a love, an acceptance, and a scaffold of strengths built upon from learning from peer lovers. Because we are all lovers- we all love. Some: easily, others: exclusively.

Yes, I want to build a house of cure, because usually it is too late to prevent. If generations of resilience are not birthed now - they will never be, since we are as we are taught and imitate examples of those before us. Resilience cannot be out bred - or the world will collapse into suicidal, self-loathing and pity-partying prima donnas.
Smile, love. Smile. It ain't all bad. We'll begin this belonging. You and I...now.

You're exactly what the world needs right now. You and your smile.

"I love you." Thank you, thank you, for reading, for daring to hope, for loving and for being mine. A friend to call mine. Something more than a stranger, and that - that is enough. One could only hope I don't forget the beauty you've introduced to me, in my frequent bouts of self-inflicted depression. I want this to last. I want to be over and done with myself. I want to help you. I want to be a child of resilience.

The beginning. A hope. You.

assured

Call me crazy or arrogant, but I am confident in the happy ending, or one quite contented. The finale of this season is not drenched in tragedy, however strange, it is not all gloom. Thank you, my friend, the director, for giving ear - and whether intentionally or not, rewriting the ending.

the scene played out well and truly sorrowful

My friend, the director, wrote a script to which I cried to.
It wasn't the sort of play that evoked much response at the time or in the beginning. It was cunning though, so that after walking away and having the weight of the wordless script slowing digested, the cold of the main character's temperament caused the deepest anguish. It is, however, still to be continued, and there's a chance it all might end well. Oh God, I hope this ends well.

a lone stranger

Today I went on an adventure that I would probably categorise into three separate adventures. All were miserable.

Because I went on them alone.

They say hungry dogs fight harder. I believe I have, of late, since Saturday. But it is as if my state of mind has been dislocated, sort of, so that a slight shift in thought sends spiteful jolts to remind me of pain; interrupting a once ordinary and usually carefree thought pattern. But I'm trying to re-lodge it, though it throbs and threatens like every man's worst fear. This unwelcome paranoia and sadness should not devour me much longer.

I have a plan.
I also have a new haircut (for the first time in 15months)
I try not to look at my reflections too frequently, lest I become self-absorbed in the incomplete perception I have of myself. Hair is hair! Merely dead cells we resource as an extension of our vanity!

.

What scares me most is the reveal of my actual self- not the physical. God forbid I become ugly via character alone: some selfish creature of distasteful vanity.

.

My hair? Nothing.

won't be long until it's nothing.

You have a tendency to infuriate me.
I doubt you understand.
Yet thoughts about your progress, curiously
Make their way into my land.
I didn't think it'd be me wanting you first. All the best, Musicman.
(I fall too quickly, but I get up just the same.)

courage, my love.

Bravery is something I'm finding really hard to come by. It's not aided by the fact that I have the perseverance of toothpick. But I don't have anyone to be brave for me, that's why I've never been in a relationship, that's why I never will be- until I've laid my own concrete, until I'm strong enough alone.
Romans15:13 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with joy by the power of the Holy Spirit. As feeble as my voice projects this, the truth of it is like a string of diamonds. Saying it over and over, only builds the familiarity of it, until it's etched somewhere convenient.

I'll get through.
As will you.

a note to my invisible readers (if indeed I have any).

It seems negligence has befallen this here canvas. My words have a new container. Not that I endorse the "in with the new, out with the old" paradigm. I like old things, believe me! I think the old establishes a perimeter within which the new is born. But I feel I owe you explanation to why my writings have been scribbled on the new page rather than here. I think it's because the new one is now "open to public" as such (as is this one for those who explore). I have "hidden"myself and vulnerabilities since...forever (or 2005), revealing only to you few who knew this address - usually in riddles and choked sobs, hardly comprehensible. But this urgency to make things known and to do so with fervour has recently infected me. I don't think I have very much time anymore. Sort of like the realisation that I'm dying, because beautifully and thankfully, I am; and the only way to counter this sorrow of deteriorating flesh is to liberate the spirit, and live...just live in the remembrance of love. I like remembering that tomorrow is no promise, because it is a more awkward but solid truth than the assumption of forever. Anyway, my thoughts are not as intimate on the new one, I'll save my deepest sorrows for here. There is no obligation for you to follow both, wahaha, no obligation for you to follow either, I just thought it'd be polite to let you know.

I always hoped to change people with my words (edified by my actions). Because words carry meaning and I want the discovery of mine to influence the lives of- heck, everyone. I don't want to be a mouthful of idle words. I really, truly want to make people question the why's and how's of life. This whole "Christianity thing" is making me reconsider my lukewarm lifestyle.

I stumbled upon a verse that convicted me to the bone this morning, allow me to share:
it is description of one of the kings of Judah:
Amaziah was twenty-five years old when he became king, and he reigned in Jerusalem twenty-nine years. His mother's name was Jehoaddin; she was from Jerusalem. He did what was right in the eyes of the Lord, but not wholeheartedly. 2Chronicles24:1&2. Read on to learn of his demise.

It's verse two that gripped me, because when I read it, I knew it was describing...me.

Oh yes, so this morning's restless reading reiterated yesterday's Sunday school's verse, which I explained to kids in grade 3 and 4. Since we live by the Spirit, keep in step with the Spirit. Galations5:25. Easy as pie right? Condition yourself to enjoy humble pie sister, or the words you produce will shame you.

Oh God, yes, promises.

what does it come to?

Hello
hello
hello
hello

hello.

What does it mean? what I've done, what I've failed to do?

Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.

oh yes, I forgot to ask.
Do you like what I did to the place? I think its looks a little further from conservative and a little more like freedom.
I feel a bout of pride coming on- careful. I like it new...how about you?

I have a monotonous habit of making friends awkward.

My paranoia is annoying. You probably think I'm full of myself, but I'm actually pertrified.

I enjoy your company. But if lines are going to be blurred or intentions confused, I suppose I'll just have to not see you for a little while- I was really looking forward to the next occassion too. I don't like being uncomfortable and it happens so incessantly once mentioned, so I won't mention anything. Ugh. Regardless, you're fantastic and your pool of talent is flooding. It's flooding! Just don't drown yourself in it.

Love.

Coward learns to stand.

Face them, you coward. Meet them on the road. Fight them off and don't even let them near. Or just lie down and die because you let them poison you every time you allow them entry to your house. They're coming for me: Mediocrity and Melancholy.

Love. Come. Protect me.

Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honour one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with God's people who are in need. ROMANS 12:9-13

The roses were red
The skies were blue
Til winter rolled in
Now what will you do?

Here's a sobering comment from a distant friend of mine:

"Is the darkness really all that beautiful?"

No, not when you put it like that. I mean, yes there are elements of mystery and a curious infatuation about hiding, about the secrets swallowed by darkness. But there is also a stunning and undoubtedly attractive nature of love in light. Something loudly unashamed and with total disregard for previous insecurities; as if the fears of the past were mercilessly silenced. When the only fears you have are for the ones you are trying to protect, to save, to love, and none concerning your own well being, that's truly noble. That's beauty and that's what I want to be - that sort of beautiful. But maybe later, I heard it's a long and narrow road of many thorns to selflessness (also referred to as: unconditional love). I also heard it's littered with inconvenient searches for courage and forgiveness, not to mention the tiresomely constant communications required to be kept with Superior. I don't have time for that. Maybe later.

Habitual Liar.

What if meaning was worn thin by the excess use of the word it was captured in? What if the words were spoken habitually and somehow, somehow it was only spoken and not meant. What if loving you was now an option and not a commitment? What if I was lying when I told you I did? What if it hurts?

Because I was the only one who said it - who still does. You though, were cunning enough not to contract yourself by your words. But not I, not I. I said them boldly, I said them because each day I said them might have been my last, but I live on, though half the time I wish I didn't.

"Tough times don't last, tough people do."
It's true.

I don't want it to be a lie. I don't want to be the habitual liar. I want to be bigger than this downward spiralling world. I want to be victorious and laugh in the face of adversity. I want not to be slave to my flesh but like those trick birthday candles which don't blow out nearly as easily as any others.

I want to prove to you that good does exist. I want to prove it to myself...because true and solid good seemed only in the beginning chapters of the bible as God described the world before sin.

What I have is good, though what I am is not. This love was given unconditionally to me though my unfaithfulness was foreseen before my existence; therefore hurts dealt my way are incomparable in the slightest.

I love you.
Smile.Breathe.Laugh.Live.Gargle.Swallow.

Strangely satisfying solitary.

The last person I called was Millie because I enjoy his company and he's in the neighbourhood and I barely see him enough. He said he had plans, so I dismissed it and gave up asking anybody else out. Ten minutes later he calls back saying plans were cancelled so I proposed a movie - conveniently enough neither of us had seen Wolverine and the last viewing for Thursday 28th May was 9:40pm. It was 9:20pm when we decided. So I switched off the laptop and left the house. Five minutes after the call and a few seconds after I had left the house, he calls saying that plans might be back on again and that he'd call me back in three. I keep driving, very set on watching a movie with or without company. Four minutes later he calls and with guilty tone admits he cannot accompany me, which I feel no disappointment about; it was 50/50 either way.

I arrive at knox at 9:41pm and walk briskly past the stirring bars and deep throbbing rnb, it is the beginning of another night, another party. I smile at the non-existent line once within the refuge of a largely deserted waiting space. The girl behind the counter calls me to her. A quick, pleasant exchange of a ten dollar note for a dollar coin, a ticket, a receipt and a snack bar combo's voucher had me feeling this was a good idea after all. I skip the steps two by two and walk up to the ticket-ripping pulpit to find a teenage boy kneeling behind it tying a clear plastic bag of ticket stubs to throw out I assumed. I rip my ticket (as usual) and ask him which half he wanted, he took the shorter one - he was being generous.

I walk the hallway of large, numbered double doors, to Cinema 6 and slide into my seat amongst the middle seats in the back row. There was an empty between another couple and myself but after 2 minutes of indecisiveness I moved myself a row down and a little to the left, one space away from another couple of guys. The back row two chatted and I didn't want to be distracted, I'm pretty sure they knew I moved because of them. Oh yes! I was glad of my timing in arrival because advertisements had just finished and I managed to enjoy the roll of a handful of interesting looking movies trailers.

Anyway.
The movie happened.

I was so engrossed the entire time! Compelled and gripped by the action and the apparent pain that played out on this large window into another world. I lost myself in it all and felt much, much better. I think the last movie I watched was about three months ago. I don't watch in cinemas an awful lot. The last was He's just not that into you, and the one before it, Rock'n'rolla. I think all the movies I've watched this year have been largely rewarding, enjoyable, few and far between; making the experiences rare and bolder than routine.

So the credits roll and I let the orchestra build up the final song and crash freshly onto me like waves on a windy summer night. I was the last person left in the cinema (there were only nine or ten of us altogether).

Anyway, I loved it. I loved the movie. I loved the experience, there was nobody else to notice around me! I forgot myself and learned the "truth" concerning Wolverine.

A definite recommendation! Likewise I'd suggest watching a movie not freshly released but a little old, in the last "shift" of a weekday night (cept Tuesdays) ;)

Could totally do with some company right now and somehow the inner circle (and some of the outer) are all occupied and I might, therefore just make up some excuse to watch a movie by myself. I'm going crazy. I hardly accept movie invitations because I don't understand spending money on these, but I've heard watching movies by one's self is an experience to be experienced and I need something now. I need. Something. I do have friends, I just can't find them right now. Oh God.

Sh*t happens. I hate that word: shit. I also hate when it happens.

It seems I have a mouthful of ramble and a heart full of fake.
Ugh. Will it never end? These reflections of my imperfections are a never ending story, and these repeated episodes make me sick. I am grateful that you love eternally and that you are an infinite being...because only you could love me having known me completely.


By the way, Love. I love how you did Autumn, I was on a high for hours! I really appreciate the display you made with the leaves: dried, dead and crisply so, but it made me so alive! It was stunning and thank you! It was bliss! I loved it. Autumn means ecstacy! Thank you again! I love you!

Lady Macbeth

So it's funny, and/or ironic or utterly heartbreaking, whichever you deem most suitable... Our insecurities dictate the extent to which we are self-centred. It scares me that the more I doubt about myself, the more time I spend making myself better, or trying to. I would liken my struggles and attempts to fix them as cumbersome as having cut and bleeding fingers and trying dryly to attend to myself and bandage my own. It becomes a pathetic and stupid plight where the wounds we try to heal are the same pains making it impossibly inconvenient to self bandage.

Strategy seems to be lacking whenever it comes to dealing with ourselves. Because we try to do it in the dark. Or I do. So that when I'm in public light there are no scratches or bruises or severed parts of me; there are minimal imperfections and less to be judged by. I've recently been horrified by an epiphany of how addicted I am to myself.

Everything is about: me.

I naively believed that because I was becoming increasingly insecure, the reasons to be self-absorbed would be inversely so. Apparently not. The more streaks of imperfection I would find on my skin, the more I would try to scrub it off with a ferocious focus that ensures my eyes hardly stray from that which disgusts me. Likewise, I suppose, was the case with Lady Macbeth, whose hands seemed never clean of the blood shed by them (remember how it drove her mad? I want not to suffer the same fate, yet find myself halfway there). Little did I know that my hands also were stained, and trying to clean dirty skin with dirty hands makes for a very unsuccessful, exhausting activity.

I love that my Savior, my lover, my creator wants this tiresome job and simply asks (over and over) for me to relinquish the ownership and whatever of wanting perfection, because he achieves better results via majestic methods.

There will be no end to this- save Kingdom Come- til then, allow yourself to be scrubbed frequently!

i want a lot of things and one of them lately is just to be good enough.
to look it, to sound it, to act it, to be worth my 56.5kg weight in gold. i want to be better than i am.

I need to be better than I am.

Three to be envied.

I met the boys down the block. They meet often, as will I from hereon in. The home we all congregate at also houses 3 mustangs, a boat and apparently spray paint of every colour. Their obsession with cars is amusing. Their immaturity in speech, thoughts aloud and pranks well veil the depth of them (if there is any). I like them. They accepted me almost immediately. I'm now the neighbourhood girl, quite protected and feeling acquainted with the "cool". Now I join them on collapsible chairs outside the open garage, basking in the pride of a racing mustang (I revelled in it).
They maintain questionable lifestyles of which I hope to have them questioning...eventually.
Everyday drinking, weekends getting stoned and/or clubbing, tearing up roads, late-night partying, cussing and "appreciating" parents in the most insulting of methods, to name a few. I told them I was going to bring them to church day two of meeting them.

Anyway, these are my new friends. The way I see it is them as kind of like coarse giants who sort of poke fun at but ultimately protect a smaller person who will in turn prove more helpful and supportive than they imagined. The new company I've been meeting lately have been relieving yet dark in the way dark humour is. I so wager I will (after having known these guys) have had opportunity to go wake-boarding, learn the world of cars, ride in a mustang (or three), go to a race, witness hilarious pranks & idiotic stunts and become familiar with the scent of weed...not to mention becoming desensitised to the foul mannerisms of perversed boys. They are no boring crowd, you can't deny me that!

So watch from the beginning and tell me if you notice changes.

Because I know, even though they boast of shallow temperaments, they yearn for more, for intimacy, for love that knows them deeper than their most embarrassing moments. I want to introduce them to one who does.