Archive for February, 2011

just a day til another bloody monday
February 26, 2011

we were soaking that day.
there were creepy guys on the bus as we trudged onto it.
we were all soaking.
even me.
yet for some reason as we sat down, you handed me your bus ticket.
and then you (the other you) leaned over from your seat and handed me yours too.
so that I held three of them in my hand.
and I’m not sure why you both did that.
why you gave me your tickets.
I was soaking too.
but that… to me… is what friendship is.
so I held on to them.
and I’ve kept them safe ever since.

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we teach the birds to swim
February 26, 2011

“like trying to catch a falling flake of snow.
it glimmers while it can
but it will melt between your hands,
you know?”

written a while ago
February 26, 2011

I usually finish cleaning my room before I begin a new task.
I hate stopping mid-way through.
particularly to write a blog.
but today, with my ‘acoustic mix’ filling my room with love,
and my mind completely full,
I am going to leave some of my possessions scattered around my room for a bit longer.
This is what I see:
I see two boxes unpacked.
One contains over thirteen old cameras, which will soon be assorted into places around my room.
the second, a box of things to hang on my walls.
on my floor, a wet towel from the shower I had to clear my mind.
my oaktree clipboard, tossed after school on Friday when I was in a rush to meet with ruby.
my perfume, out of its usual spot.
my journal, with only 18 blank pages left.
my film camera, ridded of it’s most recent roll yesterday. I tend to love my camera for how easily it understands the things I photograph.
my rugged bag that usually contains my books, accessorized by some human rights badges on the front.
one photograph of my favourite beach in bridport
and a bag full of things I kept from last night.
last night.
a collection of the people who hold inside of them some of the most beautiful memories I’ve ever had.
some of the most beautiful connections I’ve ever had.
when I first decided to hold a celebration, I wanted it to be about the people who I loved, as opposed to slamming down shots  and drunkenly celebrating 18 years of my life.
I wanted to be about the people who have given me those 18 years.
i can’t say I can a best speech.
there was no best present either.
because there were no best people.
bek… you would say she’s the two boxes wouldn’t you? (no sexual pun intended). she waits for me patiently. Ready to be unpacked. I note the beautiful things as I hurry off to the next thing I have to do, but I know that to truly appreciate the beautiful things, I must wait.
em… one look at her gorgeous appearance and you feel automatically special. Perfume. You spray her humor and ‘coolness’ into your heart, and you feel sweeter for it.
serena… you pour the little ounces of light you have, into her lense, and know that she remembers even the tiniest detail. It doesn’t matter if you fuck a few photos up along the way, the whole beauty is the surprise of seeing the roll when it’s finished, pausing, and starting again.
mel… my journal. You can dispense out poetry, thoughts, indecisiveness, funny memories and complete vulnerability into her and she will never judge. She will seek the beauty in you, because she seeks to understand you.
ruby… the bag I sling over my shoulder, evidently resulting in it sitting calmly at my side. Holding everything together. The bits and pieces… the books. Knowing me before I know myself.
and mikaela… the photo of my favourite beach, taped to the side of my desk that is nearest to my head. The first thing I see when I wake up. The one who takes me home.

there may have been no best speech,
or best present.
but there was definitely a part of last night that I will remember forever.
it wasn’t  all the nice things people said about me,
or getting nice things, or getting money.
it wasn’t the food (although my mum is incredible).
it was the times that people would come to me and tell me how beautiful all of my friends are.
whether they jump up to kick off the night with an impromptu speech,
send the entire room into hysterics,
compile photos and videos into a disk of memories,
write an extensive essay/letter that brings you to tears,
share a prayer book with you,
stagger in on crutches and impersonate ernie from ‘bert and ernie’,
give you endless cuddles,
roar with laughter at the simplest of humour,
sing beautiful songs,
discuss star-signs,
or almost knock you out when they forcefully smear cake onto your face,
they are all so fucking beautiful.
it is said that we should count our blessings.
some don’t know where to start counting.
i know exactly where my blessings start.
in the hearts of all the people I love.
and I thank God,
 for the miracles they grant me every single day.

you’ve got an inconsistent heart beat
February 19, 2011

so many beats.
too many beats.
and i can’t keep up.
i can’t feel anything.
“hold on”?

no sorry

comfort
February 1, 2011

a friend of mine recently went to ethiopia.
she worked in an orphanage where every single child who stayed there, would die.
fatal illnesses, which in australia, are quite easily curable.
she tried explaining the concept of ‘comfort zones’ to a boy.
telling him about the place we feel comfortable, and how it’s important to step out of these comfort zones to do big things.
the boy didn’t understand it.
he more or less told her he’d never had a comfort zone.
and the more she talked to him, the more she realised
people living in extreme poverty, don’t have comfort zones
heck… the boy she was talking to would  probably be lucky just making it to the end of this year.

i wanted to post a picture in this blog…
to colour it a bit.
but no photograph can explain how i felt when i heard that story.