Culling

Walked into my room today and between sneezes realised how long overdue it is for a throw everything out day.. Groan. I am a minimalist, honestly, just easily distracted especially by brightly coloured things. Its just amazing the amount, shapes and sizes of completely unnecessary things that manage to accumulate over just a few months. Especially when exams require retail therapy. So yes, three garbage bags later, things are looking up. The challenge is to keep it that way. At the end of the day, all I really need to be happy are books, stationery, a few gadgets, and maybe two pairs of beautiful shoes. A few pretty clothes. It's tough being a girl. 

Where the heart is.

"It don't matter to me
'Cos all I wanted to be
Is a million miles from here
Somewhere more familiar

Oh my god I can't believe it
I've never been this far away from home"

Catchy, non-whiny song. Positively boppy to be honest, always liked it, even now when its taken on an entirely new meaning. Post exam blues settled in after the initial euphoria of being free. People are heading back to where they belong for the summer. Normally home-sickness is a foreign concept, but nearly one and a half years since experiencing that uniquely Sri Lankan cocktail of humidity, sweat, dust, petrol fumes and don't even want to know what else forming a protective shield over my skin, I admit it. There is a painful longing stubbornly refusing to go away.

All depends on what 'home' is, really. For me it is where my friends are. That unbeatable feeling of being able to let it all go - no need to smile if you don't feel like it, no need to be entertaining, or look good or say the right things. To have company without needing to say anything. Hugs. Belonging where I am just because I am me. People for whom love is unconditional, forgiving and log fire warm.   

Tonight, at this specific moment in time, I am emotionally further away from Home than I have ever been in my admittedly short life. I'll get over it, at some point in the next hour quit wallowing and get a life, but right now my mind is overwhelmed by the wish that the next month or so will go by quickly so that I can Just. Go. Home. Please.

Strange fruit - Abel Meeropol

Southern trees bear strange fruit,

Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant south,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,
Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.

------ Nina Simone sings a particularly hard hitting version

Open window

I have an obsession with knowing people's stories. Life stories, love stories, the happenings, the non-happenings, regrets, reflections. All the boys I date go through an ongoing grilling about what they were thinking or wanting at different moments in the initial fireworks stages. What did they think of me during the first conversation, first kiss? What did they want out of the situation? What did they think would happen later? What did they think of my reactions? It's like putting together a puzzle, fitting their reality with mine. Sometimes it doesn't quite fit - 'OMG I can't believe you thought I didn't like you' being one cliche classic - and the final painting ends up, I'd like to think, like a Matisse painting: bright colours, looks kinda like reality with an endearing quirkiness. It's the process that attracts me as well, you learn so much about a person by the hopes they clung to, the assumptions made, signs read or misread. That's why I invariably stay friends with these boys, the debriefing analysing is fascinating. Even when it all goes wrong, several years later you get to sit down and pull the mess apart, untangle, rewind it into a neater ball. Ideally. 

Had the perfect one night stand, by my definition of it at least. He talked to me for hours, was generally very considerate, made me laugh, an impossibly irreverent sense of humour reminding me of of good friends back home. Entirely non-seedy, only slightly alcoholic. It was spontaneous fun. 

But now I have to let it go, every rational part of me knows it. Saw the danger signs, he's likely to get emotional, its just not going to end well from any point further than this. But it's killing me to not know his story. What was he thinking? What had he wanted out of it? At what point did he realise I might be interested? What convinced him to make a move? Why? Is he also going to look back on it and laugh?

The thought of never knowing makes me ache, just a little. Bittersweet, because in a way the uncertain endings are sometimes just how its meant to be, but at the same time it's sad that I'll never get to see the full painting. I'll carry with me half the colours, half the brush strokes, and that will always look lonely.

Short and sweet

There has actually been insane amounts of things happening, mostly good, some goose-bump inducing-ly crazy, some that will take a while to digest. Loving the ride overall. Figuring out what one wants seems to be such a messy, interesting, frustrating and fulfilling process. Two steps forward, one step back. Life is all about experiences, and now, finally, I'm back on track having some crazy fun ones!  Right now, on zero hours of sleep in the last 24, I have two days to write two essays one of which was due a couple of days ago. 

Crap :D 

Also, apple and passionfruit martinis are a.m.a.z.i.n.g. 

Some men just want to watch the world burn.

I love psychological movies. Especially the tearing them apart and have long meaty conversations dissecting them for hours on end. The Dark Knight is also going to feature in my dreams for a possibly traumatic while, I can tell. Fiction is a slanted reflection of the real world after all, even though its not a reality common to all. Thank god, sometimes. Not everyone falls madly in love and insane serial killers are not as widespread as tv shows seem to reflect. 

How many Jokers exist out there? Frustratingly, and possibly deliberately there is no psychological assessment of this maniac - the more or less good guys, in this shades of grey movie are too busy fighting him to figure him out. He has no history and he seems to make stuff up. Abusive father? Lost love? Irrelevant?  

Thinking of burning the world on a large-ish scale, the obvious examples are the LTTE and maybe Al-Qaeda but both those have reasons. What they've done is awful, but waking up at 3am, there are rationalisations which soothe their conscience, even though it may not seem justified to others. Surely everyone has a price in a broader sense of the word: something they want, not necessarily money. So then the Joker wanted chaos? A world tearing itself violently apart satisfied some need for ugliness? For everything around him to be as scarred and freakish as he is? He's just 'a dog chasing a car', no rules, no plans, no 'end' as such just any means necessary. 

Can't think of anyone like him, yet. Can you? 

Relaxin' awhile, livin' in style, talking to a raisin who occasionally plays L.A..

Ooo it's been awhile since the last post, think I heard the blog gasping for breath, poor thing. Have been indulging in my tendency to swing to industrious extremes, mostly chocolate, sleep and cocktail related. Yum. Nothing like a few tasty sips from a beautifully shaped glass of deliciously decadent liquid to get the party started ;) Which is ridiculous really because alcohol is technically a depressant but anyhoo dimly recall being extremely happy and running around chasing people and being chased on the street. Hmm. 

It's so blooming cold! Getting out of bed or shower is just misery, unless a particularly masochistic mood happens to temporarily descend. OMG those horrible, immoral, heinous, obscene people who open windows of the bus during winter SHOULD BE HUNG. Upside down. On an ice-burg and really, I don't care to bother about logistics. Teeth *clatter* at traumatic memory. I'm a tropical animal, I am. 

Self pitying whingeing aside, it's been a great few weeks,  just a-floating in that jolly ol'  cereal bowl :D [Click here if puzzled].  Although mixed berry jam with the pieces is the best I reckon, so much fun. The producers of The Daily Show have improved the quality of my life immeasurably by finally releasing full episodes, yes!! I love love love Jon Stewart and would marry him in one two-hundredth of a love sick heartbeat. Definitely worth checking out: whenever I get depressed, watching clips of him makes me feel better about the world. It can't be too much of a crazy place if such an anti-absurd aspects of establishment show still gets airtime, albeit at 11 pm. 

Optus snapped a cable in Queensland, leaving a few hundred thousand not entirely happy mobile and internet customers Australia wide. Went into the mall to find some of the stores using the old credit card machines, which make an imprint of the lettering on the card, hehe... been a while since I've seen those! Remember being a kid, jumping up and down in excitement when the girls at Food City let me drag the handle thing across. It's interesting how disoriented and agitated people become without phones and internet, even if its just for a few hours. There were apparently people who switched telephone companies immediately and had a massive yell at the poor Optus store people. Really, a little perspective. After all, this is a country where chances are the problem will get fixed within the half day.

There's excitement in the air - uni starts in less than a week! :D Okay, I'm not a nerd, just a new leaf addict, and next Monday heralds the turn of a particularly big, especially minty new one. Doing a Psych course which is potentially ultra interesting, as well as maybe a drastic change of life direction in the offing. Weeee! Exciting but mildly scary at the same time.  

Ramblings

Escaped to warmer climates for a week, benefits of living in a large continent with sub tropical state. It's been good for the soul, hanging out, partying, disregarding space and time. Entirely guiltless lying around on a sunny deck, catching up with friends, reading all night, walking around the city all night, impromptu salsa dancing in the square, eating deliciously unhealthy amounts of ice cream for meals just because. It's important to sit back and see what's being going on. Had a nice night with a very cute boy with dimples and expressive grey green eyes that soften when he laughs. Why is it that wanting someone to notice you invariably ends up in embarrassment? Or at least what you think is embarrassment. Think it went pretty well but there will be more disappearing into the universe happening in a couple of days, which is somehow alright.

Perspective - that's what holidays are all about. Stepping back to figure out how far away you are from who you want to be, because a certain amount of deviation seems to always happen in between waking up every morning and going to sleep every night. Kinda wish there were more markers along the way. There's an episode in the third season of House where the patient develops a rather far out disease where he can read people and then mirror their core personality traits back at them. I'd really like to know what mine are, have a feeling its changed rather drastically from about two years ago.

Subterfuge

Watched Miss Pettigrew lives for a day, because even though I'm supposed to be cramming my ass off for 48 hours a day, the trailers caught my attention. I love movies that pick you up by the scruff of the neck and place you squarely, sometimes not so gently in another time and completely different world. Two hours of being caught up in an alternate reality with certain rules that ensure a basic degree of emotional safety. By this I mean that you know a romantic comedy will have either a blatant, often unrealistic happy ending or at the very least a neat, hopeful ending. In the middle, there will be tears, confusion and personal chaos. The music will tell you what to feel, and also what is about to happen, another method of preparing you. A sad movie is doomed from the start, and there signposts along the way. This doesn't mean that you don't get attached to the characters or that the plot is boring, just that it is clear a prior investment in tissues is necessary. Also, don't wear contact lenses. 

Anyway, trotted along for my happiness fix, brought down the average age in the theatre by about 60 years and became immersed in a crazy upper class 1930s London. It is not meant to be taken too seriously, its light and mostly fun. The one issue it did bring up however is the games people play. Lies, falsely hinting at things, pretending and then people wonder how it all got so complicated. Why they don't get what they want. Gee, I wonder. When did it all get so complicated?

Don't get me wrong, I find the little harmless mind games on the side lots of fun, but nothing significant even if I wanted to because I'm totally crap at hiding how I feel. Happy - smile, Sad -no smiles/quiet/expressionless/go to sleep. Life is too short for bullshit when it comes to the important stuff. Get a life, seriously. 

As a kid I was anti relationships, the whole finding a boy, getting married, damn picket fence in the mind numbing suburbs. Partly from not having particularly endearing examples of a marriage, partly from believing there is something dodgy about so much of your life depending on someone else; surely it's more about building your own life and person. I still think I'm kinda right, marriage isn't really necessary anymore, and townhouses are great, however, the people in your life make it what it is in many many ways. The boy has a large role, that's inescapable which makes it tempting to turn lesbian sometimes, the best friends and the good friends are all important to making it through with that fun, delicate balance of sanity and insanity. 

So what's with the creating murky waters? If you can't tell the people closest to your life the awkward things that even you wish you didn't know, perhaps that tells you something. Chances are, they'll surprise you. Or you get to filter for weeds.

Why seven??

Ok I'm guessing everyone knows about the new tagging thing with rules. Hehe.. there seem to be far, far less than seven degrees of separation in the SL blogosphere, thus the tags from Gutterflower, Meese, and Jane Doe.

- Link your tagger and list these rules on your blog.
- Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.
- Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
- Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

1. I twirl my hair when I am tired or concentrating on something, even though my hair is about three inches long right now. 

2. My digestive system has a heart - if I'm happy I get noticeably fatter and curvier without even trying, and without my weight changing at all.

3. Slightly addicted to getting haircuts. 

4. Coffee, chocolate, caffeine pills have no energy effect on me whatsoever. Once I went from reasonably awake to actually nodding off because of a mocha. 

5. Buying stationery gives me a sense of purpose.

6. I've stopped watching Winnie-the-Pooh movies because I start sobbing my eyes out. Every. Single. Time.

7. What I wear generally tends to reflects my mood quite well. Not quite sure which one comes first.

Ok now to make sure nothing nasty happens to me:

Sach, 

Lady Divine,

Java Jones

Angel

Pissu Perera

The Missing Sandwhich

Kaiser

Have fun! I'm off to pretend to study.

Maybe I don't wanna hold your hand...

After a little pondering, I've reached the conclusion that there are two types of trust. 

1 - blind faith in the other person

2 - faith in your judgement, the ability to recognise what the person is and is not capable of doing. 

I can think of only two people I'd trust in the first way, and even that is based on the fact that I believe I know them well enough to know they're solid. Gold. Personally, I think the first type on its own is delusional and asking for trouble. 

Information is power. The more you know of someone, history, the choices they've made - under stress, impulsively, when very drunk, when angry, when they just stubbornly wanted something - it all adds up to give a picture of how strong a character the person has. How far they can keep in focus what they really want, and what they have to do to get that while there are all kinds of delicious distractions along the way.

Ooo.. trust + delicious distractions in one sentence, surely this is about relationships and delectably sordid fooling around right? Partly. It's also about people relying on each other in general. With a close friend, you give your self esteem just a little bit. They are privy to information that carries with it some of your pride, your ego. They are put into situations where conflicts of interest arise and it is a prisoner's dilemma. To tell or not to tell? Whose ass to save? Will they safeguard you over their ego? 

Then there is the even more interesting question, can you trust them to recognise when you/your ego needs protecting? In the rush of wanting something, would they be able to step back and realise the cost to you? Or just rush in to get what they want, satisfy their ego and then think 'oops' a few moments too late?  

To trust someone completely because you know you cannot trust him at all, wouldn't that be ironic. 

Life and love with an emotional Pyrrhus

I love debate. Not the organised people in rows talking against the clock stuff, but the real deal the way the old philosophers did it, one on one or small groups, people actually listening to each other, bothering to figure out different points of view, large scale consumption of wine, wit and what in my head I see as a charged atmosphere of intelligent open minded people enjoying expanding their thinking. Yes, granted, some might call that a delusion of an idealist, but I've come across people who would have fit right into that room I see in my mind. 

One person, who is currently making my blood boil and imagination overflow with satisfyingly violent thoughts would've been kicked out of that room, hopefully with a spear up his ass. To be fair, I think everyone has certain blind spots in which they don't want to hear/ are not interested in the other side of the coin. When it comes to female circumcision, I don't care about the culture argument, being a female and painfully aware that with a little shift of fate I could have been born as one of the [probably conservatively] estimated 92 million girls over age 10 in Africa who have had to undergo THIS. I don't care that its tradition, its barbaric, demented and anyone involved should to be shot. In the stomach. With a single cyanide coated bullet. And left to bleed to death. While forced to watch Bold and the Beautiful. Hung, drawn and quartered is also a particular creative genius that would suffice. 

*Exhale* Anyway! Getting back to the point, there are some people who really do only see a world of their own making. It is futile to describe any other picture to them, on par with showing a dog a rainbow [Dogs are colour-blind]. 

C is a normally lovely boy with a good heart, capable of doing the sweetest things. However in an intellectual debate or a crunch time situation involving emotions, he's just a dog in his little black and white world. What frustrates me the most is that by no means is he one of the stereotyped boys who are emotionally ignorant. Oh no, on the contrary he can go on for literally hours [having been at the receiving end of these self-pitying rants, I wish that was an exaggeration] with excruciating detail into carefully thought out complex arguments as to why he has been hard done by and betrayed as he 'always' is, oh poor him that believed in and opened his vulnerable heart to cruel human kind.. etc etc ad nauseam, oh Zeus please thunderbolt me now!

On an intellectual level its fascinating to observe how it happens. Conversations with him resemble laps round a Nascar circuit, it doesn't matter about the possibilities out there, he wants to be 'right' and will take whatever it takes, including building walls and a stadium to make sure that its just not possible to go anywhere near an exciting rally track with forests and dirt roads and unexpected twists. Which is what a proper debate should be like. He will do, literally whatever it takes, including subtle self esteem manipulation to keep you going round and round in the same circle. So he's always right. Usually because logic is screwed but delivery it so forceful, its not worth the fight. A Pyrrhic victory. As a result, so many interesting ideas, potentially mind-blowing angles of thought are slammed out of his life. And even that one can say is fair enough, after all he can probably live quite happily without being willing to listen to TRY understanding why war crimes tribunals are important *cringe*. I personally cant handle that, it made me cry, but oh well.

It's when this mindset, a concretely set mind spills over into emotional situations that things get messy. When you have a rigid image of what you want from other people, when there are expectations of the way people should be that leave no room for who they actually are, and what they want from their life or how they do things, the conditions are set for cyclones to be a brewing.

Intentions or reasons behind actions suddenly have no value, unless of course they are his intentions and actions. Thats a scary world to live in, with the human element in a sense is amputated, removed with the cold, sterile slice of a self indulgent surgeon's blade and only the actual deed, the dead limb is left. Misunderstanding, mistake, accident, unintentional are now words without meaning because they involve comprehending at an emotional level the other person's actions. To be honest, that would be okay if he applied the same rules to himself, or even SAW what he was doing, but of course, no. 

One particularly reflective friend once made the observation that when someone is overly sensitive, it invariably results in insensitivity toward other people, because it is very difficult to get over being wrapped up in how you feel, and see someone else's hurt or intentions.

Sometimes, it doesn't matter that you didn't get what you wanted/expected/hoped for from the person. Sometimes, it is more important that your friend is in a shit situation, making mistakes, slipping on a learning curve and needs your support. 

SS - This post is for you. You need what you need, don't ever let someone else guilt you away from reality. Love love love. 

Sunday evening, no rain is falling

Mmmm... the lingering moments between weekend and weekday. Dusk. Love that word. Such a musky sexy sound to it. On Sundays it heralds the end of pretending. Saturday mornings whisper of lazing around and enjoying the sun indefinitely, but its merely a subconsciously yearned for delusion, steadily dispelled by Sunday evenings. Don't have an issue with Monday per se, just its position in the scheme of things that well, stinks really. 

Interesting how learning curves never quit. Just when you're comfortable having figured out one level of crazy situations, it escalates and you find yourself drowning again. Kinda exhilarating, at least its a sure thing that general chaos awaits at pretty much every step. Also, thank goodness for the wise old owls that have been there before, renewed respect for tribal systems. 

21st century kid

Woke up this morning after what must've been a traumatic night, cos all the hair on the left side of my head was sticking out horizontally. Fifteen minutes of talking to it soothingly, patting, twirling and dabbing with water proved futile so off to a strong burst of hot water it went. Another fifteen minutes later most of the it was in the biologically allocated position, a few strays popped up again later. Honestly! 

Noteworthy though, is that I first saw this situation in the reflection of the laptop screen as it was coming out of hibernation, and first instinct was to google the problem. Not reaction, instinct. Before the brain  had even begun to start processing the thought of waking up, before the blinds were opened, before feet touched the floor, the laptop was already switched on, mail had already been checked and cursor was blinking expectantly in the little google search bar.  

Ten seconds later a bleary brain still in a semi-comatose state pinged. A little half feeling that something is odd. Which is when it dawned that perhaps I have a problem. In a need to go for meetings and say my name before admitting it kind of way. This isn't normal, surely? To be so totally addicted to a computer, cute though it is, and the internet to the extent that you have to have it on all the time? And you do so in a sub-conscious state? 

So of course, I googled it :D There are tests for Internet addiction, support groups [online. haha], and blogs on the subject. A separate sub-category for those addicted to google ["The Coke of the web. Sweet, available everywhere and the first choice of the consumer"]. Basically there are addicts to everything, including job searches, rss feeds and of course blogging. Most of those are a bit over the top of course, at least some of those are tongue in cheek. Hopefully. 

What I find disturbing is the restlessness that turns up if the comp isn't on, or *GASP* the internet isn't working. Every time I've gone camping and there hasn't been phone reception for a few days, its been such a release to not be able to use it. Its partly the techie in me that tends to get overly caught up in the newest toys and programs, partly trying to keep the important long distance friendships going but this is a little insane. 

So, have decided that one extreme calls for a temporary swing to the other extreme. Which might entail switching off wireless for most of the day *gulp* and setting a timer :|. Good cause. Have to study too, shyte. So yes, looking forward to a few days of living in reality and going for walks, perhaps finding myself a cozy spot in a comfy tree and hanging out? :D Although haven't tried that in the winter before... Hmmm...

All the world's a stage, please can I, may I leave the theatre now?

Drama should be forcibly limited to when there are people acting. Which, of course takes place with or without a stage, costumes, lighting, a set. All very well, as long as its carefully put into one of those sealed isolation units in alien movies - monitored, any sign of leakage swiftly dealt with preferably in a method involving permanent separation. Basically, I fervently wish it would stay the hell away from my life, because I can't cope. 

Especially when there are large vats of other people's lifelong happiness at stake. Oh bloody hell, kill me now. Keep being told I'm good at calming people down etc etc.. Interesting, that, cos the only thing going on in my head is a brain shattering silent scream. Desire to sprint away and hide under the bed, violently muttering incoherencies while rocking and pulling at hair. Oh yes, and sucking thumb. When the white coats come, there will be one ready and eager to be incarcerated person enthusiastically bowling them over in a mad rush for the barred van door. Freedom. This kind of stress really is sanity destroying.

Also, freaking hate prisoner's dilemmas. So annoying that the equilibrium is rarely ever in the best outcome box. Theoretically, peacefully confined to the limits of a two dimensional page its fun and interesting, in real life it can kiss my shapely posterior - I freaking need my sleep. As might possibly be evident, haven't had sufficient quantities of that. 

Grrrrr... 

*curls up under quilt*

Ten happiness inducing things

Ok I was caught by Sach, first time in this little blog's life that its been tagged! Sooo.. in no particular order:

1 - Big Sunday brunch in the sun with a good book at a cosy, friendly little street cafe.

2 - The energy and possibilities of a city, particularly Melbourne

3 - Picking up the phone and hearing the voice of someone I love, especially first thing in the morning.

4 - Daydreaming

5 - Friendly dogs - labs are number one on that list.

6 - Beautiful, lyrical writing, that brings alive a feeling or a moment.

7 - Hugs - proper borderline bone crushing, I love you and never want to let you go hugs. 

8 - Laughing and getting on a natural high with friends

9 - Funky gadgets

10 - Interesting conversations with unusual people. 

Kaiser, 

Cerno,  

Ravana [though perhaps acknowledging a tag might make him mortal, oops? :D ]

Tagged! You're it! [Is that even the same game? Hmm...]

Hazy shades of cramming

Made it through mid semester assessment, vaguely alive. As usual muttering profanities at the idiotic previous self that chilled out and procrastinated, leaving things till there was no later left. 

Afterwards, I got to think about why it is that cramming works. What is it about that last minute desperation, that makes learning so much easier, more efficient and effortless compared to when you've actually got time to 'learn properly'? Honest to whatever greater being there is out there, I did try to study weekly. Economics for example, at least an hour or two was spent trying to read that textbook and giving up because it was just a collection of gibberish sentences and what looked to me like random lines all over the place, wont even get started on the equations that didn't equate to anything visible. So yes, gave up and went ahead with all the kazillion more interesting things there are to do. 

5 weeks later, roughly 6 hours before the exam, rummaged through a few boxes, dug out the book, blew away the dust, sneezed for about half a hour, etc etc usual process, and opened it fully expecting a headache. Had even carefully positioned Panadols, M&Ms and glasses of water. 2 hours later, I'm positively gliding through pages upon pages of this stuff, all of which makes perfect sense and is actually interesting!! 

How does that happen?? I timed the grief inducing chapter so lovingly mentioned earlier  - took 20 minutes[!!#$%!] to read through and everything just fell into place. Kinda like the parting of the sea, suddenly vast areas of dry land where there used to be enough water to drown in. I've heard of people mentioning being 'in the zone' which might explain it, but not entirely sure what that is exactly. 

So, with a month to go for finals, I'm sitting here trying to convince myself that exams are tomorrow. For some reason myself is laughing back at me. Sigh. Winter exams suck. What little motivation survives the procrastination gets frostbite and goes on strike. A little hypnosis would be useful right about now.

Memo

Good resolutions involve cleaning, clearing, filing, organising, alphabeticalising, colour-coding and writing lists. Usually a happy process, because of course, from now on I will be organised, and efficient and responsible and not a procrastinator. In the middle of the back patting and general sense of purpose, an awful doomed feeling crashed the party. I've done this sooo many times in my [shortish] life so far. The clean desk, the suddenly filled with writing organiser. And it keeps coming back to this. It's scary to think that lucking out is most likely a scarce commodity which has been mined as if it were unlimited. Yikes. The lucky streak is going to run out. I don't want to be bankrupt!! 

Never want to do this again. There's a limit to optimism, it needs some help from reality to keep going. It's Autumn: running out of new leaves to turn.

xxx

The 'just before' sucks. Waiting for something to happen, either good or bad. For all the lasts to be over: last night, last day, last meal, last trip up the mountain, last hug, last look, last wave, last glimpse. Interesting how the airport is divided into the happy arrivals section [Love Actually!] and the often awkward departure lounges, where people are waiting for those final minutes to pass. Holding onto those, willing them to either just go on forever or disappear entirely - all physically impossible. And there's nothing else to be done really, except wait for them to pass, to get onto the process of mentally, emotionally, adjusting to the new version of existence. Weird, walking into a building, walking out half an hour later and so many things just not there anymore. 

Olympic rant

 These anti-China protesters are annoying. Agreed, China does have a dodgy [to put it mildly] human rights record, they're evasive, controlling, and the poor Tibetans are being treated terribly etc etc. Yes, just before the Olympics is a good public moment to air all those issues, thumbs up for free speech!

However, to seriously suggest that entire countries should not take part is unfair on many levels, but most importantly on the athletes who've been training for literally four years with 2008 in mind. This isn't an event that happens every year, a delay of 12 months would be bad enough, 48 months is a very long time. 

The protests should have taken place seven years ago when the Olympic committee was choosing the country in 2001. Now, it is only a question of airing opinions. The violence that has surrounded the Olympic relay puts the world to shame, with people in the 'developed' countries proving to be unable to respect boundaries. Having processions I can totally understand, there are some serious human rights issues going on, but to go to the extent of disrupting the relay, requiring the flame to be put out, is really a bit much. 

The Flame has a symbolism beyond that of just the Beijing games. It doesn't belong to any one country, and is supposed to represent Olympic values, like friendship, solidarity and fair play to name a few. Seems like there isn't much of that going around. 

If you really truely feel strongly that something should be done, boycott all Chinese products, not the Olympics. The world happily exploits the ultra cheap goods that come out of China without a second  thought, but have a huge moral dilemma with China holding a sports event? Rubbish.  Hypocrites.

Old Friends

Can you imagine us years from today,
Sharing a park bench quietly 

How terribly strange to be seventy - Simon and Garfunkel

There are so many horror stories of friendship turned arsenic: gruesome and bloody backstabbings, smashing of trust with blunt instruments, unauthorised sharing of top level secrets. Despite going to an all girls school, I managed to float through school observing and generally avoiding some ridiculously complicated friendship politics. The clean up squad was more my thing - once the missiles were spent, voices reduced to a raspy croaks and tear ducts exhausted, peace troops would be needed to clean up and sort out. That was quite fun, talking to both sides, investigating the situation, finding middle ground, clearing up what was invariably a small, deadly misinterpretation of words. Blimey, the energy wasted on drama!

There are a few people who fall into the park bench category for sure. Swallow and Glitch are utterly easygoing, happy go lucky, solid, up for anything [not always a good thing with me around] and total soul mates in a non-cheesy, non-astrology.com kind of way. Coaster is rather more complicated: the image of a vertigo inducing, erratic yet strangely reliable roller coaster springs to mind. While on it, there are moments of panic and illness, but being on the ground involves being lost and without a compass, even though I often disagree with his sense of direction. Yea, its complicated. Birdboy probably be there would too, but thats a situ still floating around in midair at the moment.

There are potentials that hover around, new friends, old friendships that would be missed terribly if they were to dissolve, but those are constants necessary for all to be right in the world.

Long distance close friendships are tough. I miss how easy it is to be with them, the short hand which cuts through explaining, the instinctively knowing when something is up without having to be told/tell. How we always, always end up having a good time getting ourselves into and out of crazy situations, laughing all the while. Even the shittiest day turns around. 

In a way, the worst part is not being able to share the good stuff. Dancing in the rain, rolling in the hail, funky concerts, beautiful Victorian buildings with ivy curling up its walls, impulsive drives, walking through the city and randomly stumbling across a jazz band in a courtyard, little country towns out of Enid Blyton, candy stores, stationery warehouses, chatting to interesting strangers, in a club, dancing to that song you know they'd go crazy for if they were here, even or perhaps especially, just feeling happy for no reason. 

Feeling a little friend-sick. 

Don't want to be my winter

It's finally arrived. That constant chill, hanging out persistently even on the sunniest spots of the pavement. Jeans and t-shirt weather has long gone, shorts rejected and stuffed into dark corners of the clothes shelves a week ago. Fingers and toes starting to get numb during the day. Finally gave in and took down all the neatly packed away winter coats, socks, beanies. So much wool. So much weight. Still resisting the electric heater: semi denial.

Last winter was a bit of a disaster overall, which might have been expected considering it was the first for this particular sunny islander. Wasn't expecting just how utterly cold and harsh and actually quite miserable it was. Finally understood seasonal depression. After nineteen years of taking it entirely for granted that going outside meant sun and warmth and comfort like a hug, suddenly its just not there. Unimaginable. In school, the crazy girl who'd choose to stay in the sun for hours if need be, that was me. Fortunately its largely sunny down under, cannot begin to fathom living in a gloomy country for more than a few weeks.

On a brighter note, seem to have got a grip this time around. Touch wood. Use a support system, keep the neurons whizzing. It's a case of watching the extremes, keeping the slips from turning into slides. Sleeping in is okay, eighteen hours a day for three weeks straight, mmm, not so much. To be fair, it was a accumulation of a kazillion different badly timed factors/incidents/judgements, as such things tend to be.

Autumn is so pretty. Trees turning a whole range of warm colours. Crispy, curly leaves floating down. Just the right temperature: cold enough to feel minty clean, but warm enough to be snug in a couple of layers. And you can still feel the sun properly. The campus is basically a garden with a few buildings built on the sidelines, so it's gorgeous in the summer, breathtaking in the autumn, bare and harsh during the winter.

Game plan is to breathe in as much as possible while its good, avoid intense Snow Patrol songs and laugh lots.

Just three miles from the rest stop, she slams on the breaks

That flash of piercing clarity where you realise, from the depths of your gut, that this is not where you want to be. Its not a logical conclusion derived after analysis, or a calculated decision after weighing up pros and cons, but a quiet sort of 'right, I'm not putting up with this rubbish anymore' which has a powerful, contained resolve.

You may have been rationally analysing along those lines for months or been miserable for ages or perhaps a quiet feeling had been sneaking up unawares for some time, but what I'm talking about is that final spark which breaks the connection keeping you in a certain place, whether it is in a relationship, a job or just waking up to what a quagmire your comfort zone has become. Rob Thomas sums it up beautifully:

She said - while you were sleeping
I was listening to the radio
And wondering what you're dreaming when
It came to mind that I didn't care

- Rest Stop by Matchbox Twenty

Somehow those last two lines capture how things just click into place in a quiet, often completely random moment.  It doesn't necessarily hail the end of self doubt at that twitching hour of 3am [MB20 again!], just that its easier to rationalise the brain back to sleep. You've passed that point where what you want, generally in my case, sanity, slips higher on the priority list overtaking whatever was creating drama.

I've always felt that 'vibrant' is too strongly complimentary an adjective to use on a person. Until I met my ex-boss. She is the most intensely alive person I've met to date. I'm going to quit while ahead and leave readers to use their imagination rather than try to describe her. Lets just say no one who met her, no matter how briefly, could ever forget her, customers were guaranteed to be walking away with a smile on their faces. She's just one of those.

She had been working at her job for over 20 years, longer than I've been alive! She's always loved it, her first job which she assumed would be her only one. We joked that she had roots entwined in the foundations of the place and she could never leave because the place would fall apart, and spirit wise it was so very true. In the last couple of years however, change of management etc etc, it became insanely, unfairly and more annoying, unneccesarily stressful for her and people kept telling her she deserved better and should leave but she couldnt. There was a massive emotional investment: her husband worked there, the team was like family, she had known all the regular customers and retailers for years. She fell ill constantly, was permanently stressed out for about two years before she reached that 'rest stop moment', a tipping point, where everything fell into place and she was able to break out of the unhealthy situation within her comfort zone and move on without looking back.

Non-mutual breakups are so messy and painful because one person has reached that moment but the other is yet to get there. And that sucks, as you can't force an epiphany. It's one of those irritating mental switches that you can lean over and juuust brush with your fingers, unable to get enough of a grasp to flip it at will. 

Just three miles from the rest stop
And she slams on the breaks
She said I tried to be but I'm not
And could you please collect your things
I don't wanna be cold
I don't wanna be cruel
But I gotta find more
Than what's happening with you
If you'd open up the door...

Reality leaves a lot to the imgination*

Italian Job 2 has such sexy moments. [Spoiler alert. If you haven't watched it yet: what was the weather like on that middle star of Orion's belt?]. Stella's introductory scene where she drives a Mini through London traffic captured my heart wholesale. At some point in my life I will own/rent/borrow/run off with/hug and refuse to let go of one of those. Don't care that they are overpriced. It's absolutely the perfect city car if one is gutsy enough to drive suicidally like she does, couldn't find a youtube clip *gasp!*

Anyway! One of the things that got the drowsy brain buzzing was the villain's Achilles heel - a lack of imagination. Specifically how this was expressed through his inability to spend the kazillion million dollars he stole. It is quite a common question, the 'if you won a million dollars/ had three wishes/ could rule the world etc what would you do?' line. Good for random conversations with possibly dodgy people on buses. If you think about it though, how many entirely unique responses have you heard to that?

The conversation early on in the movie, where they each describe what they intend to spend their share of the money on is interesting because it manages, in just a couple of minutes, to sketch a reasonably vivid image of each person's personality. Handsome Rob's drool-worthy Aston Martin is a player's car; a pantie dropping, super cool adrenaline rush. The geek speak with which Napster describes his sound system immediately assigns him the nerdy techie's place in the team, and Left Ear is for sure the cultural one with his beautiful Spanish villa and leather bound first editions, etc etc. All done in just a few cleverly picked phrases from each of the characters.

Steve Frazelli [baddie] couldn't come up with even one thing that he wanted, he borrowed off everyone else. It is roll on the ground hilarious when they realise he has very literally bought their ideas. The catch though, is that he can't possibly enjoy the spoils because they aren't 'his'. The kick-ass tv, stereo, car, house, library have nothing to do with his personality or tastes. It's like the joke about the art dealer who sold a white canvas to a multi-millionaire, assuring him that this was the newest art movement. Luxury is an experience, and therefore entirely relative. Ferrero Rochers, enjoyed infrequently, would be absolute heaven regardless of whether I'm driving a Rolls or living in a leech infested ditch. He is admittedly a one sided character, for storyline convenience, but that aside, he hasn't figured out what is uniquely extra special for him, which is not scarily not uncommon in real life!

Right now, I don't quite know what I would do with a few million dollars. There are the obvious ones I'd want to do like travel all over the world, enjoy all those currently light years outside budget experiences like cruise around the world first class, sky dive, learn to fly and then buy a plane, a boat, eat in funky, ridiculously expensive restaurants, buy into a formula one team, watch a kazillion plays and concerts, build up a massive library and art collection and generally run riot with all my friends.

There isn't any focus to all that though. It's to do with not having an overwhelming passion for any one thing in particular. Having strong opinions and an interest in a variety of things is not quite the same. Those people who have found that Something [with a capital] they cannot live without, I envy them. I like music, but don't turn pale or feel ill at the thought of a couple of months without it, unlike probably Confab and RD. Ditto with any other interest except perhaps to a certain extent human rights related things and psychoanalysing everything. Right now, if my bank account balance unexpectedly grew several extra zeros [before the decimal point], I'd probably invest it so that until I finally do figure out what I want to spend it on, it'll be sitting there, getting fatter. To be fair, I reckon its also an age and experience thing, this knowing what you want.

So what would you do with say, 10 million dollars. It sounds like a lot, but it actually isn't that much. What would you spend it on?

* John Lennon

There is an awful lot of breathing room

So, I have all these drafts hanging out in my blogspot account: some random, some reflective, some stressed out, some are actually more panicked neurons on the rampage than coherant thoughts, but they're all chilling in there, wondering what the next step is. Ideally, I would like to write them out and post them, but I've gotten to that apparently inevitable point where worries about people figuring out who I am become relevant. Damnit. Unfortunately most of my rants might be recognisable, and although most of my friends have comfortingly appalling memories it is quite posssible they will connect the dots. Bummer.

Theres no point in having a blog if you can't release what you think, what you feel, what you wish you didn't feel, feel you shouldn't think or think you shouldn't feel. And then there's the whole if a tree falls in the middle of a forest and no one knows, did it actually fall? I know now what drew me to blogging again is, more than anything else, the actual act of writing. Putting words together, taking them apart, refitting, streamlining, adding, replacing, playing. Its like dabbing at a painting for me - little strokes of the brush, enjoying the rush until it looks good, feels right. I'm not a serious writer, just an entirely selfish one. I write for me, to make sense of my little, sometimes painful world.

It was a Monday, a sunny, sparkling day because it had rained in the morning, and all the trees were a happy deep green. I had homework to do for that afternoon [of course]. Usually a last minute essay is a smooth, oft practiced process, but that day I couldn't get a line off a Norah Jones song out of my head. It wasn't boyfriend trouble, that kind of stuff actually doesn't get to me too much, it was a complicated non-melodramatic incident involving a boy I loved as a part of me, one of those quiet things that you can't really pinpoint at the time, which makes it difficult to analyse. I remember feeling restless, and uneasy but not depressed or anything like that. And then, sitting there in the library overlooking the mango tree, I started to write and write and write. A poem four pages long, I just couldn't stop myself. No idea where it was coming from, these weren't thoughts that I had consciously, feelings I was completely oblivious to. Once it finally ended, sitting back, exhausted and reading it over was such a shock. It was so wierd to be reading something composed by me, but totally new to me at the same time. At that point I realised this is what makes up for my tendency to live in denial and then be overly rational. Its the outlet that quite literally keeps me sane.

To conclude: Don't guess. I'm not that person. Seriously.

This is hypocritical of me because I love trying to figure out who the blogger is. Perhaps thats partly why I'm so paranoid, but anway, since this is my space where I get to be a brat, its shameless denial till all the animals of the ark come home.

Survival

So, four straight nights of alcoholic mayhem, one bone drenching rainstorm, one small teeth chattering hailstorm, and a ridiculously inadequate quantity of sleep later, my immune system is still happy and relatively strong. A little tired, but hanging in there.

Can I just say, I'm kinda impressed?!?!

One more big one to go :D

Shades of awesomeness!

Commitment phobic, independent spirit, its all a matter of perspective really. All I know is that at this moment in time, I am without a doubt thoroughly addicted to being single. The last couple of nights have been shades of awesome!! :D A heady, exhilarating mix of fun music, crazy theme parties, tequila, vodka, pineapple juice, funky friendly people and general mayhem. Total spontaneity is such an adrenaline rush. Made lots of friends! Including one particular boy *grin* who besides being cuuute, with a damn good body, also had the impressive ability to carry on a hard core politics/psychoanalysis/history conversation at the bar of a club with music blasting out of speakers a couple of feet away. I think I'm in like. So huggable, he was. Anyway, in typically me fashion I disappeared without saying goodbye so he has probably vanished into the universe, but it was nice :) To be honest the highlight of that night was just the dancing, laughing and going crazy. The theme was 'bright and tight' [dodgy, I know] but wearing wildly contrasting bright red, green and orange made the hippie in me so happy. Trust me, the net effect was not as bad as that sounds :D

Really need to work on flirting signal recognition. Its terrible the extent to which I really do not notice all this implied rubbish. Partly because I cant be bothered, partly because c'mon, Aussies are just all friendly and outgoing. Its tough to distinguish between 'hey I think you're fun' and 'hey you might potentially be really fun' [drunken hookup signals are irrelevant]. Plus if you dont know the person that opens up the entire avenue of personality - some people are just really really outgoing.

Anyway, while recovering from severe lack of sleep, overdose of chemicals and the morning after torture from cruel but sexy heels, it hit me that I dont want to give up this freedom for a very very long time. Not just in the partying aspect of life but just generally, the space to do entirely random things, whatever I want, whenever I want without having someone go all sulky on me. It applies to friends too, cant handle clingy people who need to be babysat. *shudder*.

Ok have to continue battle with sheet to turn it into a toga for tonight!

Did I mention, o week ROCKS?

Poor old Saint V

Ahhh V day. I guess Love with a capital is always a touchy subject, so the amazingly emotional reactions makes sense. Anti valentine rants like Kaiser's are so much fun to read, plus anti valentine's day cards and cartoons are so creative! Loving it!

On the other hand, feeling rather sorry for Saint Valentine because he seemed to have been a good enough bloke. As far as the - apparently unsubstatiated but convenient, probably fairy - tale goes he was just a soft hearted priest who couldn't bear to see marriage being banned and therefore performed the ceremonies in secret. If he were alive, he'd probably be stunned at the extremes of animosity and.. cant think of a suitable adjective actually.. sentimentality? enthusiasm?

I for one firmly believe it does not deserve much attention because there arent enough chocolates on sale either before, during or even after the 14th of Feb. Quite disappointing. [Penniless chocoholic student here]. Easter on the other hand is a totally different, very yummy story.

Anyway, this time around the plan was to first of all manage to remember the blooming day [check! erm.. sortof], spread some of the love, msg the good friends etc [check! doing well] and thirdly, try to build a bridge with a particularly difficult friend. Sigh. Its going to be painful, I can tell, probably should have stocked up on m&m's for the ensuing drama and depression. There is ten minutes of v day left, I know I'm procrastinating on purpose... what if he's on some romantic date :D Heh.. that would be interesting. Akward.

Ok here goes.

Knuckling down. Kindof-ish.

The Hippie nose is not happy. Its being firmly held to the grindstone, and told it has to stay that way for the next two weeks. Sigh. I've actually never properly 'studied' for an exam in my life. Always the crazy last minute cram session where normality is abandoned, sleep is a unknown concept, massive quantities of chocolate is consumed and adrenaline keeps the system going. Good times. Fear is by far the best motivator, especially short term. Rather enjoyed the high, especially since it was a shared experience, pre exam nights full of panic stricken phone calls usually because someone couldnt find/didnt have the textbook/notes/anything related to subject. Home science was the 'didnt have anything' subject for me at local O levels. A few scraggly speciman cloths with random stitches was about all. Without exaggeration, everything written down for that paper was learnt about 3 hours in advance. I miss what a bludge those exams were!! Now its all about analysis and application of theory, which of course presupposes that in 12 days, I will know this theory to apply it.

Bummer.

Poor nose.

Happily ever after

Fairy tales are overrated. Perhaps I'm just hard to please, but the standard gorgeous prince saves helpless docile princess and makes her blissfully happy for ever more is just mind numbingly dull. The brothers Grimm ones were quite funky, but a little too dark for my taste, perhaps I was too young cos they fired my hyperactive imagination and caused some crazy nightmares. So I gave up and switched to proper books, until Princess Florizel came my way.

Its a pretty obscure book, haven't found anyone else who has read it, but its the perfect fairytale and should, I firmly believe, be read repeatedly to all little girls during their impressionable years. Florizel is all a real princess should be: fun, easygoing, full of energy, down to earth and game for anything. Too busy riding her horse and being upto all varieties of pranks to waste time on dresses and gilded mirrors. Freckles, boy short curly hair.

Theres a prince of course - handsome and only heir to the large neighbouring kingdom, nice enough guy, immensely relieved to meet Florizel who compares well to all the stick thin, self obsessed princesses that shudder at the idea of having anything other than dry toast and water for breakfast and turn pale at the thought of being in the sun.

At The Ball [the one where the prince chooses his princess, for any lacking fairytale education] Florizel tells him in her usual firm friendly way that he's quite nice but she has no interest in getting married thank you very much and would he like to do something interesting such as go on a hunt instead.

Her parents are horrified, being of the follow the fairytale template generation and lock her up in her room [with food, they have quite a good relationship going]. Her mother waits eagerly for the prince to climb the vine that she planted when her daughter was born.

Then comes my favourite part: the prince climbs into the tower and proclaims [quite chuffed] that he has come to rescue her. Florizel asks him how he got up there, and he replies that he used the vine. She then points out [in a 'speaking to idiot male' tone] that if he used it to come up, she can obviously use it to go down can she not, and she doesn't need rescuing, thanks. HAH!!! Awesomeness. He climbs down the vine alone, quite deflated, presumably feeling his little fantasy world is rather topsy turvy.

There is of course a scene with a dragon, where the prince gets trapped and Florizel out on a ride finds and rescues him, tearful scene with the parents who cant understand where their daughter is coming from and a couple more humorous twists that I cant remember anymore. The conclusion however was that Florizel and the prince decided to be firm friends and got on very well, I don't think there was anything about a Forever.

And no, she's not a lesbian :P Maybe they got together later on, if her hormones kicked in and she decided she wants to settle down, its all open ended and realistic. There is no creation of impossible expectations for a handsome knight on a white horse to make a breathtaking entrance, swish his sword a few times and solve all the princess' problems. No magical kiss which, being from the 'one true love' overrides all evil.

This is the root of the high divorce rate. Little girls and boys are encouraged to think even subconsciously that perfection exists. That there is the happily ever after where all food tastes divine, there is no stress and the weather is miraculously perfect. The scary thing is that once you've gotten to them before about 5 years of age, its ingrained in their consciousness, and they can only rationalise it to a certain extent! ARGGHH. Plus the whole extravagant wedding stuff is just an adult continuation of a children's story. Think about the adjectives that are used to describe weddings - magical, fairytale etc etc. Watched 27 dresses yesterday and everything looked so pretty, I actually contemplated thinking about wanting one for a whole tenth of a millisecond. YIKES. Of course BirdBoy got all happy taking it as a sign that I might be less of a commitment phobic someday, but I don't think so!!

I love intelligent romantic comedies with happy endings as much as the next girl, but most of the stories out there are so darn unbelievable. Wheres the fun in having an entirely peaceful life? A few fights now and again are healthy and keep things spicy - after all makeup sex is apparently the best kind and all that. I'm not a cynic, I believe in love and a boy to be happy with and laugh a lot with. But I do have an innate suspicion of this love stuff, it is so often just heavily perfumed rubbish.

Gripes

Its so irritating when couples come for a dinner and spend the evening cooing at each other. Not necessarily to the extent where they need a room, but even just creating dead air in terms of conversation and interaction.

Went for a Curry party got stuck at the couples end of a table for a while, which was quite a painful experience. Is it that difficult to retain your individuality and ability to keep up a conversation with someone outside the cacoon? Pathetic.

Met several interesting people after making my escape, including a Sri Lankan who has been in Aussie all her life, visited once, but is more 'Curri-fied' than most of my friends back home! Twas hilarious, she's lovely as in warm, generous and caring but the whole grapevine/setting people up thing is scary. I was randomly chatting to this guy and suddenly he comes out with 'oh yea, K told me about you and said we should be friends cos we're both from SL'. AAARRGGHHH. 911. A terrifying majority of her friends are from SL, and looking at the slideshow of pictures from over the years, any Aussie influence is minimal. Of course the accent is there, and she does have 'white' friends but still, unsettling. I don't like the thought of being accepted so easily just because I come from a certain country/sub continent.