let’s study class March 14, 2011

i recently told one of my best friends that i love when i read something truly incredible.
so incredible, that you struggle to split short quotes from the text.
i write in my english writing journal a lot, but all of my so called poetry ends up being a series of two lined quotes, slammed together with more.
anyway… upon talking about it some more i concluded that regina spektor was a perfect example of said writing style. ‘on the radio’ ‘braille’… both songs that are difficult to extract quotes from, and still do justice to the whole piece.
she was another… the close friend i was talking to; mel.
and today, upon reading a several week old letter, i found another.
funny… that she was talking about regi in the unquoteable paragraph.

i had a listen to loveology. it was beautiful. i admit at first i was disappointed, i didn’t think i could relate to it at all. that’s because, in a weird way, i experience things one way before i actually really experience them – it’s like there’s two parts of me, an outside and an inside. on the outside, i’m dismissive and independent, on the outside i’m cynical and unemotional and believe that love is probably a myth. but the inside… the inside is nothing like the outside, it’s the polar opposite. the inside me saw loveology as an explanation for life while the outside me thought that it was the usual sentimental song about loving someone and hurting them. the inside me heard words that described every human interaction that’s ever existed.
“I will hum you a song about nothing at all.” that phrase sums it up. It’s all we ever do, all anyone ever says: nothing. the words are nothing when you strip them of their definitions, but the real meaning behind it is love. everything we ever do shows how we care. that’s what i think the song is about. it’s about how love is everything, how, in the end, you can take away the words and the actions and all you have left is love. you can say
‘forgive me’,
‘sorry’,
‘stay please’,
you can say anything, but it all comes down to love. that’s all. just love.

shards March 13, 2011

“the fragility of crystal is not a weakness, but a fineness”

point it home March 13, 2011

even though we haven’t talked much on skype… or made a big deal of it… it’s just nice hearing you laugh hey? hear you in the background of my thoughts… but soon the call ends…
and i feel lonely again…
i miss you every day…

tigleet March 12, 2011

right now the sun burns hot outside.
I’d began my day by writing a letter.
I’d taken a shower and snuggled into a pair of jeans that hug my body comfortably.
slipped on a shirt, left in my untouched cupboards.
whenever I come home the room is always bare.
party because my mother cleans it to freakish extents every time I’m about to return home
and partly because it’s empty of my life.
so this morning I spread the desk with my papers and books.
gave it colour.
and began every day like I normally would.
memories of my tortured summer flooded me as I went about the things I did:
writing a proposal… reading… a long drive with dad to offload some of our rubbish at the dump on the outskirts of Scottsdale.
it felt as though I’d picked up a book I’d stopped reading half way through.
the caravan, now empty of my sister’s life, had but a few remnants of her memories in it.
I gazed over the paintings we’d left on my last few days at home.
as the day got hotter, I decided to make the most of it.
took my book, and sprawled myself across the deck.
after finishing my book… I felt giddily full of something I couldn’t explain.
an overwhelming sense of fulfillment.
not just of the book, but of my own past memories of my summer.
I walked slowly to my room, ripping off my jeans.
And I put on a pink dress.
yes…. Pink.
the one I loved as a fifteen year old girl, dating her fifteen year old boyfriend in the summer of 2008.
I slipped back into the memories of a much happier heated summer.
as though, by finally wearing it I was fulfilling the summer that had just passed.
a summer, where I’d become too different and sad to wear a ridiculously pink dress.
I wasn’t unhappy due to self hatred, events or even annabelle’s departure.
I was unhappy due to my own fear of the year to come.

she’ll probably smile as she reads this, because it’s one of the quotes she hoped would make it to my blog:
“adult. elderly person. child. I’ll love you just the same. yes it’s scary, it’s lucky that you’re brave”
a message sent to me the night before i turned 18.
I had begun this year so fearful of what was to come.
so much so that I couldn’t enjoy the summer.
I was merely trying to get things done before the year unfolded.
not the reflection of the ‘brave’ girl that ruby sees.
yet here I am.
an adult, yes.
at the beginning of the end of year twelve.
with endless assignments.
and endless worries.
endless responsibilities.
endless meetings and tasks.
endless stressing.
endless tired yawns.
yet, here I am,
completely peaceful.
wearing a fucking pink dress.
and feeling extraordinarily content.
happy.
I once wrote on my myspace profile that I like wearing my hair in one long braid.
which is only half true.
I don’t like the way the braid looks,
however I like the way it feels.
And I suppose that’s what my life has become.
from the outside, I don’t really like the way it looks.
rushing around, doing things, going places… always busy… and always tired.
however, I, without a doubt,
sure as hell,
truly do
love the way it feels.

have mercy on me March 4, 2011

“if less is more, then how’re you keeping score?”

your thoughts March 4, 2011

Dear You,

You had this amazingly warm face hey?
I felt so fucking safe whenever you came by.
You came by a lot.
When I was younger, more than anything.
You just had this way of making things better.
Fixing all of the broken parts.
It was you that told Dad how to tell us what depression was.
he told us that often when people have sore brains,
their brains don’t get better for a while,
so we must learn to be patient.
You never judge,
you never yell,
you think of good memories when you feel like losing control.
You had this amazingly warm face.
I remember whenever you came by I’d always sell you my chocolates, or get a donation for the charity I was raising money for.
I always felt scared asking you, because I always knew you’d say yes.
Thanks. Not just for the money.
You were Dad’s best friend.
And you kept my family together.
And you kept me together.
And you kept mum together.
You were so soft… like talking to peace.
Charles will miss you too hey?
I remember being told you were together.
And Dad told me it was a secret.
Because a man loving a man would spread fast in our community.
And being a psychologist, you had to be trusted.
It seems silly to me.
Silly, now that I understand.
You came to all our Christmas parties.
Thanks. Not just for coming.
I got so scared when I heard.
A little girl again… weeping.
So I thought of the good memories… because I felt like losing control.
Thanks.
For everything you gave us.

I’ll miss you.

With love,

Catelyn

if March 4, 2011

It’s brutal.
I won’t lie.
I’ve never felt so exposed.
People watching.
Mistakes to make.
Bad decisions.
People Unhappy.
Again and Again and Again.
You try. You fail. You try. You fail.
Brutal.
And I know I’m fucking up.
It’s funny that this was a new year’s resolution.
So easy to succeed in it…
So easy to fall.

tie it around your neck March 4, 2011

“it is the greatest human desire to be truly known, and truly loved anyway” – bert
I was outside the front of collegiate talking with my best friend.
stumbling as she rushed through her words she told me about a boy she’d met.
‘you’d like him… he’s really secretive and hard to work out.’
she continued unloading her thoughts onto me. and then she listened as I poured out my week.
a ten minute exchange and we were both on the same page.
she then handed me a gift.
“it’s so late it’s not a birthday present” she’d said.
shitty logic. but I took it anyway.
reading through her card, I laughed so painfully I could have been crying.
in her card she was even gutsy enough to say that she often said things, hoping that they’d end up on my blog.
while they don’t always end up on my blog, most of the things she says end up in my heart. beating around my body happily.
i feel blissfully understood by her. yet loved anyway.