Monday, August 31, 2009

images of you and me

"I can't write with my hands over my ears!"
"something about tendancy"
"...tennant?!?"

i love you kids

Sunday, August 30, 2009

echoes of mercy, whispers of love

the wonder and beauty of the fact that
'you provide for those who fear you'


and I, for once, am not afraid of my questions, of my doubts.
For once, I dare to ask you.

What about the others?

Saturday, August 29, 2009

The world is cold

I can't believe I just did that.
Let me lay out my last couple of days for you.
Friday : stressy parking practice, late for piano, frantically begin and finish VOC assignment, SLUM SURVIVOR, complete step into a different culture, and a different world. Begin with super intense slave labour simulation (causing me to be seriously traumatised and now afraid of newspaper) move on to begging the teachers for donations and building our lovely houses out of cardboard and tarp and whatnot. Dinner: none. Jojo read us a bedtime story, I became the mama of my little slum scum family when original mama had to go home. We piled into our lovely carboard 'houses' and tried to catch some Z's.

Friday night: finally get to sleep (to bed at half past six, with the sundown) after tolerating very annoying security light and wheelie doing people only to wake up an hour after, very awake. lie awake for a few hours, get up and wander for a bit. back to bed and back to sleep, only to be woken by a very genuine seeming jo, yelling and saying we have to get inside cos theres intruders in the school. rush into room, squish up away from windows, sit in fear for a bit, get told its just a scenario.Head grumpily back to bed.

Saturday: Predawn we are up and sent out rubbish picking, told that it will be very fortuitous to get lots of rubbish. so we hunt. It has been raining all night, everything is wet and muddy and soggy. we pick it up anyway, and return. Only to find that our family has the least, and we need to try and make stuff out of it and convince the teachers to buy it with the fake money we need for hypothetical medication and actual food.
Sit and sort through soggy disgusting rubbish, by this point have completely lost care factor that it is filthy. Make toy boat, jewelry, toy doll, paper hat, toy cooking set, battery baby and bat and ball set from rubbish and duct tape. Feel very proud of creations. Slight fail at spruiking and selling, considerable fail at getting enough rupees. could not afford 'medication' so all got crippled, pretend inflation meant that without the slum love of Middle McMuffin slum scum mum we wouldnt have eaten.

In the middle of selling, Jo says the LRA are coming and we gotta scram. much running and hiding around the school, in the rain. Then a hilarious time spent hiding behind the english block trying not to laugh while the mcmuffins farted. TOTAL hilarity. our slums got raided while we were gone, and when we got back we had to try to earn more rupees, some more failage on our part. due to the fact that we hid too long and missed the boat.

we had some VERY meagre lunch of a cup of rice and dahl between four of us and then we got organised for our peaceful protest up at the hub. we made signs saying 'keep your money,we want change' and scattered around the centre. it was freezing cold outside (where i was sitting) and we got quite a lot of interest, quite a bit of people giving loose change and whatnot. great stuff. then something amazing happened.
We'd given this guy a brochure as he went into the centre, then as he came back out a bit later, he said 'ive had a read of this, and i think what you're doing is awesome.' he pulled out his wallet and in my head i was like 'yaaay more loose change' then he vaguely pulled out a fifty, i thought he must have been looking for a five or something, a ten if we were lucky.
But no, he pulls out the fifty. and a second. he hands it to allana and says 'here you go'.
Saying our jaws hit the floor would be understating, allan cried and so did I, a little bit.

It was massive, cos one of my hardest hitting bits was in the slave simulation, making paper bags out of the pages of the paper, covered in the stories and pictures of people who don't give a flying crap what happens to the people who actually live like that.

And then this guy... he no joke restored my faith in humanity.
its incredible what a hundred bucks can do.


And one of the biggest things, is that not only did we get to go home at the end and they never get to go home, never get to know any different.

But not only do people really live like that, and for their whole lives. but the small change we collected today, and that hundred bucks, and that five, and that ten, and that two dollar coin.

They are real too, and they go to real people in the real world, in real pain.

We made a real difference, and thats the point.

Oh, and I finished slum at four, got home at 4:13, ate, showered, whirled into work like a tardy hurricane and didnt finsih until 9:30 cos it was INSANE (NB i normally finish at 830, 9 is late for me) and I'm still alive, and pumped to sing at church for my mum, practice at 830...woohoo.

And people try to tell me I do too much :)


and what a great way to finish this part of my weekend, with an unbelievably gun ho owen wilson movie with the most unsubtle music EVER. and saying 'oh he went there' at random inappropriate moments. good times. DUCT TAPE!!

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Think of me, trying to hard to put you from my mind

Dear Stuff,
Dear last beer bottle into the fridge, I love you, you make me smile as you slide cosily into your position.
Much love,
<3glitter Dear people drinking only one of a type of beer that no one else likes I hate you, just drink the same beer as everyone else, k? Looking forward to not having to glass you in frustration, <3gliTter Dear self, You suck, you are not very good at remembering things or being organised. You really should use your diary, and get off your ass and do what needs to be done. You have parking practice, piano, slum survivor and a VOC studies assignment to do tomorrow. You do too many things. Stop. <3glitter Dear dreams, you are hurtful because you are happy and not true. You make me annoyed at myself for being half awake and deciding to stay in that dream place, cos it felt like pretty much all I wanted for a VERY long time. You make me sad and regretty feeling, because you have shown me that I still want what I used to want, ridiculous as it is. Ridiculous and non-existent, seeing I have built it up in my ivory tower of imagination. You make me sad, and afraid of heights. at least you did not torture me with blowflies. thanking you for minute mercies, <3glitter Dear Person, you suck. You are not, never will be and possibly never have been who I built you up to be. This is my fault. I don't care, you still suck. <3glitter Dear other person, you remind me so much of the first one that it is literally painful. you talk like he does, you have a jacket like he does, you have friends like his. You make fun of me like he does, but make it funny like he does. You deliver pizzas like he used to. i wonder if you drink as much as he does. i certainly hope not. Please do not pour your life down the drain even as he pours toxic liquids down his throat and i try I try so desperately to get his life back out of the drain, even though theres nothing anyone can really do but him. Please do not put yourself through what I hope so desperately is a phase. Please stay like him, but not him. Cos I will seriously go totally bonkers if your hair changes colour, you need glasses and start playing hockey. If you ever call me emo, I will undoubtedly snap and as we discussed this evening as I gritted my teeth and tried not to think about the other person, the laser shooting eye thing, meant to be a secret. Call me frenchy all you like (the beret was asking for it I guess), but don't call me emo. for both our sakes... This is random,I hardly know you, but still <3gliTter Dear Blogger, Stop taking out all my enters when I edit this post. And stop putting in labels i didnt want so I have to edit it again. You are frustrating and addictive, -sigh-

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Living in your prewar apartment, soon to be your post war apartment

First of all,

Dear people who blog letters to things.
Sorry I stole your idea, I couldn't help myself

tata!

Second,

Dear Future,
I would stand in the rain to wait for you.
Sometimes it feels like I already am.
I would stand in hail for you, for a ridiculously long time.
Sometimes I think I have seen glimpses of you, but they are not my future, they are someone else's, zipping along down the line.

Do destinys have return to sender?
I would stand through a hurricane, I would wait for years.

But I get the feeling I would convince myself that my whole future consists of waiting, and walk away shaking my head.
I am certain this will happen, just as I am certain you will be shipped return to sender when it turns out you simply had to buy a bandaid to save yourself from the blister of your shiny new shoes and I have not had the faith to wait for you.

I'll kick you in the sins and in the face until you love me, papa, paparazzi

I love my mum, dont get me wrong.
and shes's a great mum.
But she picked the WORST day to forget about picking me up.
Half an hour.
In the rain, wind and freezing cold.
:P Love you mum

Monday, August 24, 2009

Because you say so under your breath

It comes crushing down on me sometimes, the realisation that you're gone.

You died.

You really, actually, died.

I went to your funeral, we filled it with crew.

We cried.

A lot.

The boys stood there with sunnies on, trying to be tough.

I hugged a lot of people.

I was sorry that I was quitting, I felt so much closer to so many people.

I really worked that shift where I could hardly serve for crying.

We really sat in the crew room and cried for an hour.

I really worked there.

You really existed.

I really knew you.

You really died.


istillcantlistentothepowerofyourlove

there's nothing after all

Continuation and expansion of previous blog.
If God asks me to be a spinster.

I thought of an even worse possibility.
What if I have a steady christian boyfriend who loves me and who i love.
and god still asks me to be a spinster.

I think that one is about eighty thousand times less likely, but still.


I realised something, sitting here enjoying how contented i am as i lie on my bed, blogging, eating sushi, drinking chai and listening to amber rubarth while it rains and blows a gale outside, that there is a gap in my contentment.


I am very nearly completely incapable of contentment without other human company.

I am never fully present in my life.
I'm always thinking about something else.

Honestly, even if I had a guy, I would imagine him into something more perfect than he was.
How scary is that...



and if God asks us all to be spinsters, we are SO living together.
if its just me, you still get to be my sanity :P

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Don't make me close one more door

Retreat was mad.
Totally mad.
And I feel fantastic.

But,I have this nagging question in my head that I cant shake.

What if God asks me to be a spinster?

Friday, August 21, 2009

adam, who you been following?

i am sitting in my (still clean) room.
Lying on my bed.
Barefoot, in the comfiest clothes I own.
Blogging.
Listening to Kate Miller-Heidke.
Drinking Lady Grey


I wish I was a writer.

I see the way you smile at the TV
And I think of back when we had no TV
and all the times I made you laugh

which wasn't many

I see your eyes light up when you talk to your friends
They used to light up for me
Way back in 2006

I was all you could see

Monday, August 17, 2009

tell me i'd find you're happy inside...

dear owner of this blog:

i am a hurricane.

i leave your kitchen in not much more of a mess than it was already in, accidently spill water on your powercord, happened to be using your sister's laptop when it fell off the couch onto a pile of pillows, clean your room unbelievably quickly, make you smile in a second, and spin around a lot.

I am a hurricane.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

You went into the kitchen cupboard, got yourself another hour and gave half of it to me.

Their house burnt down.
A family of six, only the dad is left.
In hospital with massive burns on his hands, from trying to save his family.

I can't help but think how glad i am to not have those scars, not have that past...

watching the news sucks.

im looking for your half smile

“Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.”

Terry Pratchett

Thursday, August 13, 2009

at the end i'll tether my heart

I has a new blog!
All for my story :)
You can get to it here, and part five is now up for your uh... depression lol.

Something borrowed something blue, something funny,
something true:
Pedal prix, year 5.
Headache, most likely from dehydration.
Went to the st johns tent to get panadol, should've just asked mum, didnt.

Slightly pissed off the guy by telling him I couldnt take tablets.
He asked me how old I was, how much I weighed.
I told him, proudly.
It had gone down after all.

'No wonder she's got a headache, she's ten kilos overweight' said the grumpy st johns guy.
'Don't say stuff like that' says the kindly old lady.

I swallowed the panadol, said thanks, went back to my tent and cried myself to sleep.

That was six years ago, I was ten.

And I still can't get it out of my head.


Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Make it last

"Waking up.
I've never enjoyed it, occasionally despised it even.
Or rather, I thought I despised it.
I had no idea what it meant to truly despise waking up in the morning.
Or waking up at all.
Ever.

But dreams are just as bad as reality, or worse.

And when I begin to fade back in, its quiet.

I expected frantic screams, running, more bangs, sirens, hysteria. Chaos.
But there is nothing.

I lie there, covered in dust and blood, i don't even know whose...
I don't want to know whose.

I don't want to hear, see, feel, do, or know anything.

Give me envy, give me malice, give me a break...

Give me denial, sweet, sweet denial.

I slip back into unconsciousness, but something pulls me back, insistent, almost desperate.

Please, please I'm begging you don't make me, DON'T MAKE ME!

I am screaming as the Cheshire cat fades away, stripe by stripe.

The rabbit insists he must go, he's very late.

The Mad Hatter and The March Hare are frantically trying to help me remember whatever it is that makes me so desperate to stay in Wonderland, or Looking Glass, or wherever we are.

The Door mouse puts the jam on his own nose and goes to sleep, I am achingly jealous.

And then Alice...
Bloodied, bruised, with a canon hole through her from her husband the tardy rabbit...
'You simply cannot stay here darling. Even I had to leave Wonderland...'

And so I am back in the real world, though it is not the same world it was when the director called 'fade to black'...
It never will be, never again.

I know this, but I can't remember why...

So I just lie there, covered in denial and a strangers blood, paralyzed by terror.

Until I feel a hand touch mine, moving of its own volition.

I hear a voice, that sounds like an actor doing voice in a cartoon.
You know that you know that voice, but it sounds different, you can't place it.

It's you, I finally realise, but not you. Forever tainted by these moments, the wounds are showing already. But you are speaking, which means you are breathing, which means you are still here.
For your sake, I'm not sure if this is good or bad.

I'm terrified that I'm dreaming and I don't move...

But then, I hear you start to cry, ever so quietly...
And I little bit of courage seizes me by the throat, as if to say
'You are making it worse, just because you're scared.
Don't you dare find a way to make this worse'

So I squeeze you back, and hear you catch your breath in response.

Is it beautiful or sad that you didn't let go of my hand even when you thought I was gone?



Tuesday, August 11, 2009

I've had the same jeans on for four days now

" Somehow waking up is more painful than the nightmares. They were beautiful really.

A glittering dream scape of fantasy, tinged with the now black reality of fact...

The fact that I cannot stay in this place.

Alice and the white rabbit get married, the Cheshire cat officiates and the mad hatter is her maid of honor, the march hare the best man and the door mouse the flower girl.

It is a lovely ceremony, until it comes to the part with the objecting.
Apparently objections are compulsory here, everyone must have at least one and each must be sorted through and proven wrong before the wedding can proceed, like a trial, but more trying.

The Queen of Hearts shrieks 'OFF WITH HER HEAD' and nearly gets the motion passed, but she refuses to justify her statement, crying ' All ways here are MY ways!' until the Red and White Queen carry her away.

The Red King's snoring is almost considered as an objection, but Humpty Dumpty proclaims it to be praise.

The most disturbing objection of all is by far the catepillar. Blowing his entrancing smoke rings, he insists Alice provides an answer to his highly impertinent question.

'WHO! ARE! YOU?!'.

But the white rabbit simply replies with 'My late wife' and pulls out a cannon to cease all objections to Alice forever.

youcannotstayhereyouknow

Whispers the gnat in my ear, the bread-and-butter-flies die for lack of tea with cream in it, the snap-dragon-flys flee to their christmas boxes and I...

I cannot stay here.

<3gliTter

Monday, August 10, 2009

Beneath the neon lights we'll go wandering

"But we lucky few, we are permitted to pass go and collect our $200 of vouchers for slurpee heaven, where they sell only head-spin seasoned with MSG, heart-break sprinkled with six year old icing sugar and nightmares on a bed of toe jam, marinated in repression and denial, every night for the rest of our lives; like sand through the hourglass.

Permitted, by an unlikely Hollywood villain/victim to struggle on in our little trio, helping each other keep from throwing up the past.

Or so we thought.

One for all and (f)all to the floor.

I felt a funny pain in my knee as I fell, a twinging symptom of years of netball and falling down the stairs.

And a decidedly unfunny pain in my stomach and my head, as the fuzz of impact begins to engulf me.

Just before I let it, I realise three things.
One/Yi/Uno/Eins: I am on the floor, but twisted all funny, very unlike a bobcat pretzel.

Two/Ar/Dos/Zwei: I am one of many

Three/San/Tres/Drei: You are the most twisted, your beautiful face not sitting quite right. Turned toward me, it seems wrong, unsupported, with nothing behind it.

All in the same instant I wordlessly pray I am wrong and know that I am not, as I slip into God only knows where.

get yourself dressed instead of running around and pulling on your threads...

I want to write, so here goes. Goodness only knows what will come out...

" We are walking through a delapidated, disliked corridor. We thought the worst thing it could lead to was double english in computer labs that don't work fast enough to support slacking off.

We are wrong.

What was a flurry of break-neck speed gossip and inconsequential whinging becomes screams of pure unadulterated terror. A sound we had never heard before, now cannot stop hearing from inside our forever altered souls.

Bang! And screams.

We fall to the floor by a block of lockers, huddled together.
Silent dread drifts over us and settles like plaster dust, sets like burnt chocolate only to be disturbed and broken by a sound we never expected to hear for real.

Hollywood taught us that sound, like a school teaches you to go inside or outside in response to the dissonant wail of a siren, rather than how to do cartwheels or roast sunflower seeds, or other such useful things.

Run, they taught us. Run and bleed at that noise. Or just skip straight to bleed, do not pass go, do not collect $200, but that doesn't work as well for action movies, only crime shows."

Saturday, August 8, 2009

They paved paradise and put up a parking lot

Two weeks notice.
best.
movie.
ever.

Hugh grant is a) highlarious and b)gorgeous
PS MAN PART hehe

This movie began a long injoke with near-forgotten origins and a very delicate, albeit tearful friendship between Norah Jones and I. She said hello with 'the nearness of you' and then she helped me with some of the sweetest daydreams i've ever had with 'come away with me' and broke my heart with 'don't know why'. 'Cos at the time, I really didn't.

I cannot believe I've not yet bought a CD of hers, but I almost feel that it would spoil the spontaneity of our relationship.

The fact that Norah Jones is at present unaware of said relationship is entirely inconsequential and I refuse to hear any arguments to the contrary. :)

The dust that's falling through...

I am running straight into a brick wall and screaming. screaming at my concrete jericho.
Does it just not move because part of me doesn't believe it will?
Am I simply not enough?

'End' said the telephone, brazenly and unassailably.
'Too true' she thought.

I am sick of waiting for one day.


RAH RAH RAH BOOOOOM TEE-AY

Friday, August 7, 2009

your winter birthday

it is raining outside and this makes me happy.
my signature makes me angry, but rain makes me happy.
it is nice that it is raining, because i thought that winter might be over already, which would be sad.

hearing rain again...
its like thinking a friend who was staying with you has gone early, when another different friend comes over, one you weren't expecting yet.
then you find out the friend 2 was only popping in to say hi, and you hear friend 1 singing in the shower.

its nice.

<3gliTter

Thursday, August 6, 2009

button, oh button, oh where have you fled?

you know what, screw the freaking signature generator.
yes, its very pretty, i actually like it a lot.
but it is trying to make my typing blue and underlined.
now it is dead, until i ask my dad very nicely to fix the code for me.

also, YAY FOR HAVING MY GORGEOUS LITTLE NETBOOK.
his name is ernest edgar eggleston.
ernest as in ernie, edgar as in 'rah rah rah boom tee-ay'.
and eggleston as in, well...eggs.

he is cute.
tiny, and confusing.
but very, very cute.

<3gliTter
MOME RATHS??

Random Thought For The Day

Sometimes it would be easier if everyone just ignored me...

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Out the window

'I leave pieces of paper, pieces of myself along the way'
And I am walking behind you, picking them up.
I am rearranging them, and sticking them together, clutching to my heart a collage face that never truly existed.

Bullshit Daydreams

I always feel older than i am, I wonder if it will match up at eighty.
It is very odd to think that at eighty, I may still be seeing and thinking in much the same way. I will still be me, my essence, just older. Strange to think that every second I am living , will one day be my past, will one day be 'the good old days', even now as they are 'the crappy youth days'. Every song I listen to will one day be strange, boring and old. Maybe they already are.

When I am forty, I will buy a best of the naughties mix and, remembering none of it, I will think to myself
'Surely this is not the life I lived...'

I've got a key

No matter how good today is, I will find a way to remember a better one and pine for it, even if there are none to pine for.
can'tyouseehowquicklythiswillalldripawayintomemory?

Magnetism and Mystery

Went to see the doctor, 'Heart broken, head spin, no reason'.
He came back with the chart of every mistake and memory.
'Terminal romanticism, chronic nostalgia, overdose of grey's anatomy, high levels of daydream toxicity...This girl's got a bad case of adolescence and the mean red's.
Get her a hug, STAT!

He carried the shopping bags and she carried them both

I am keeping every scrap of paper, every text, every memory of your face,  your name.
I am hoarding away every miniscule scrap of you that I can gather, 
cos you might not be here in the morning


and don't you dare buy a friggin' suitcase...

ifyoucouldreadthetextsikeep,youdbelookingatmeaalittledifferently,alittleweirderalittlewider

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

i just cant seem to find a way...

yva neht nioj

the only thing around worth hanging onto

It's weird never having a full day of school, it makes the whole day seem much shorter.

I am so excited that my baby is coming!

My netbook that is.

He needs a name...

Its also quite sad that I got so excited about a new piece of technology, its not even new stuff.

Like, its not second hand, but the tech is a bit old I think.

Weekly coffee shop hangouts, at the very least.

and who says we need to wait til we're mothers?

Maybe just uni student age, if we aren't seeing each other so often.

and the second our parents will let us, ROADTRIP!

I can't wait :)

its gonna be grand





Monday, August 3, 2009

i cant get out of bed today or get you off my mind...

doesnt crystal have an 'H'? ...Kate Miller Hickey????



and when it happens, it will feel like a kiss

I don't know why I'm blogging.

lol, i was going to say 'bothering' but it came out blogging.

both make sense.

grr, silly very slowly loading signature generator thing.

also, stupid admins making leishas blog blocked.


stupidfishsmellingbum...ireallyneedtoseeadoctorabout that