Archive for November, 2011

heads too strong
November 24, 2011

the girl let go of the red balloon.
attached to its string
was a wish she’d written.

and released to the sky,
just one more goodbye.

“after all… anything’s possible”


one hand
November 21, 2011

“what’s it like kissing someone in the rain?” 
i don’t remember where or when it was that I asked you that.
i just remember asking.
and you answering… the same way you answered all of my stupid questions:
as though they weren’t stupid at all.

weeks later it rained one afternoon after school.
i told dad I’d catch a lift home with him when he finished work.
instead of catching the bus, we walked hand in hand to a park.
it was the most pathetic amount of rain
but regardless, we still stood there
holding each other.
naïve fifteen year olds .

how is it possible I’ve gotten so unfamiliar
with that feeling of endlessness.
sometimes I think I write these memories down,
so to not forget something I’ve clearly now lost.
a truthfulness.
or maybe just a simplicity.

the great perhaps
November 19, 2011

i suppose there are SOME benefits to annoying indie teeny tumblr boppers that re-post photgraphs of john green quotes,
when they clearly don’t even care anything even about alaska’s feelings…

and that is that it may result in them finally making the damn book into a damn movie.
curse the people who have the rights and still haven’t bothered to do anything with it

“you left me perhapsless stuck in your god damned labyrinth”

kids in the backyard
November 19, 2011

her: no division of powers essay
me: i know! i had to do federalism
her: i thought you might
me: were ya worried about me!?
her: i actually was, catelyn. i worried about you the whole time.

i know it sounds stupid
and lame
and potentially nerdy,
but i really have fucking loved that class.
i’ll miss furiously taking down notes.
i’ll miss comparing marks with henry and charles.
i’ll miss study sheets 
i’ll miss logging onto the tqa every time we get an assignment.
i’ll miss henry being annoying
while we all death stare him,
and bella throws punches at him.
i’ll miss the feeling of starting a new topic.
that being said though i’m probably not going to miss crim.
i’ll miss making crocodile teeth whilst learning about the westminster system
i’ll miss preoccupying henry with ‘mr squiggle’ so he shuts up for a while.
i’ll miss the place i sit.
and i’ll miss packing up my bag after every lesson.

but in those moments as i exited the exam,
when she was standing there waiting for us to come out,
i realised just how much i’m going to miss her.
how much she taught me, yes
but also how much time she invested into me.
the patience she had for me,
as she slowly saw me grow from a borderline CA student in history
to an EA student in legal.

i felt the sincerity of her worry when i came out of the room.
and i felt truly lucky to have had her as a teacher.
truly inspired.

singing bugs
November 10, 2011

yesterday i wrote over 5,000 words in prac essays, memorised qur’anic verses and wrote a job application for next year.
i then concluded my afternoon watching james and the giant peach with maddy and scott’s six year old daughter on the big screen in the chapel.
not going to lie, there are some things in this world that truly make it worth living.

zara to her dad: “i’m in love with Catelyn. i’m going to marry Catelyn. i don’t care if it’s gay. it doesn’t matter.”
although marriage isn’t really an option, i love you too little kitten.

despite study
November 8, 2011

i agree with anna on the whole ‘step back’ feeling.

and although i fucking love winter
summer is definitely the season of
‘omg that’s so fucking cute’

oh how i love life today.

November 7, 2011

we were sitting in the loft.

me: how did the date go with your brother?
girl one: it got cancelled! They are re-scheduling
girl two: naww is this a gay date?
me: yeah
girl two: how cute!
honey: ….
honey: i don’t understand why that’s any more cute than a ‘straight couple’ date?

i swear i could have carried her on a golden chariot in that moment

name dropping
November 7, 2011

i’m not going to lie… it’s pretty cool being able to talk to a famous australian actor on the phone,
and argue that his sore throat is a result of catching idiot’s disease.

a heavy numbness seizes
November 7, 2011

and in the end it’s the difference of the spirit and the matter
it’s the difference of the lover and the flyer
don’t it make you want to cry?
-lia ices

you transcribe the words of our conversation into a painting.
a girl, swirled by the fragility of each human soul, yet determined in her hope of a better world.
you take a photo.
and you send it to me.
you then take my favourite painting, one by leonid afremov.
you take out your oil pastels, and you re-create the colour of the connection in this painting.
you mail it to me. inside the envelope you’ve put a usb
and you’ve written
“this is best viewed by blurring your eyes and listening to the song i’ve put on a usb for you. it’s a beautiful song! about half way through a harmony begins… a dance where the masculine meets the feminine in a symphony of love. i think that’s what i love about the image you sent me (afremov’s painting). it looks like two paintings, and two worlds that meet under the umbrella. a threshold of two souls colliding”
i currently feel swirled by my own fragility, yes, but your letters give me hope, tom.
a hope that there is a threshold where two souls collide.
collide in harmony, in heart and in truth.
and for that i thank you.
for giving me perfect hope.
i only wish to return even a fragment of what you’ve given to me.

a long post
November 7, 2011

i met her on a February morning of 1998
she was wearing blundstone boots with her school dress.
and her hair was a messily cut bob that fell at the bottom of her lobes.
I’m not sure if anyone dictated our interaction,
I just remember that I was pretty stubborn and refused to let go of my parents,
while she calmly played games in the corner.
eventually I joined her, and a friendship was established.
I don’t think either of us planned for the years we had thereafter.
but it went something like this:

in kindie I was already a feminist.
I drew with pink pencils to make a statement against those that would shriek ‘pink stinks’
and when the boys were pissing us off, I’d protect her by lifting my skirt (an offence which resulted at the time, with the boys running away in fear)
whenever it was my turn to have a tiger bike (a fucking sick as bike that had a saddle, and a bucket at the back for another person to sit in), I’d always choose her as my partner,
because I had absolute faith that I could trust her to choose me when it was her turn.
she witnessed my first crush. a little boy with a bowl cut… I clearly had high standards.
in prep we shared classes with the children in year one.
we were both good at reading and writing.
we started ‘learn to swim,’
you always had amazing bathers.
she witnessed my second crush. a little boy who was in the year above… unrequited love might I say.
in year one we were the big kids,
although, she and another friend developed a game called ‘run away from catelyn,’
whenever I was being annoying.
still trying to forgive her for that one.
year two we started school on my birthday,
you comforted me when I cried.
and we learnt to curl our tongues together.
we also learnt how to touch our nose when we stretched our legs over our heads into a triangle.
I won a drawing competition.
you won all the cross country running events.
year three we had big kids in our class again,
and that was shit.
year four we both had our first boyfriends.
and we would sit in the ‘box’ (essentially a cement room at the back of the kindergarten)
and we would hold their hands and dare the other couple to do things
e.g. swap hats, or tell each other that you love them
you even got married that year.
year five we had the most incredible teacher.
we also got good at playing ‘kings’… we would always team up when we were picked on.
I won the cross country that year. You were on holiday.
year six you cried when we, for the first time, weren’t put in the same class.
you changed into my class shortly after.
by now we both had longer slicked back hair.
you were the coolest girl at bridport primary, and I was proud being your best friend.
I wanted to be just like you.
high school we started becoming who we are now.
you were good at maths and science.
you wanted to study nursing.
I was good at english and humanities.
I wanted to study law.
we developed our first ‘group’ of friends.
we spent our days at the beach.
we made our money by delivering papers together,
being chased by dogs.
we never fought.
not even once.
and time skipped forward until we split.
I moved to Hobart,
you eventually moved to Launceston.
but every time we came home,
nothing had changed.

And now here we are.
yesterday we sat down and sipped champagne,
and ate a fuckload of food.
i’ve seen you grow old friend.
from a tiny five year old, into the woman that you are now.
it feels surreal to say I’ve had a best friend for over thirteen years.
someone who has watched me change and become.
yesterday as the boat headed out, I looked to the shores of the place we both call home.
the sun set over the water, and even though we were both freezing and exhausted from sea biscuiting,
I had enough energy to be so damn thankful that I’ve always had you,
that no matter how much I changed and became different,
or how much you changed and became different,
you and I were always inseparable.
to this day, I’m not sure if someone dictated our interaction that February morning in 1998,
but if they did, whoever they are,
I owe them thirteen of the most incredible and beautiful years.
I owe them a girl who has become one of the biggest parts of my life,
and will forever remain that way.
happy birthday mikaela.
you truly are incredible.