Noeline. Jeremy. May.
Three ordinary people who see each other in an extraordinary way.
Friends. People I've picked to be part of my family.
The end of the blame game. No more accusations about which side of the family we seem to have inherited our 'bad' features from.
Why we have overly thick hair. Why we have extremely thin hair. Why we're so short. Why we're too tall.
All of that doesn't matter anymore.
Finally, WE have the final say in who can, and who cannot, influence our inner self.
Why we're bitchy. Why we're nice. Why we put an act. Why we're ourselves.
And to a large extent, it's because of our friends that we're who we are on the inside.
Blame them, and ultimately, you're only blaming yourself.
They ARE you; and YOU them.
So goes the saying "Date one person, and you're dating their friends and family"
Don't say you're only into wog boys, rock music, surfy clothes and red nail polish because the rest of your group is; and that's what it takes to remain. That's just a display of your vulnerability to find real friends.
Jeremy, May and I, comfortable with our differences, were on the rooftop of May's place. The perfect place to play murder in the dark. We would have, but then we turned seven years old. Ok, no more pretending to be mature - it's because it was sunny that we didn't. We decided to admit defeat to the weather and just talked.
We talked about The Three F's:
1. Food… typical!
2. Friends
3. Family
For those few hours, we were happy basking in the sun surrounded by each others company. Perhaps what we discovered that day, about ourselves and within one another was our inability to accept the imperfections of our biological family. We were three people, the same in some aspects but more importantly - different in others.
We were the result of three different families.
Jeremy came from the 'normal' family, broadly speaking. He had a mother, father and younger sister.
May had a mother, father and siblings; yet wished her parents were separated.
I coming from a divorced family hoped my parents would never get back together.
May thought I was the luckiest girl alive. I envied that at least her father stuck around; I only saw mine every now and then.
What I'd give to have a set of parents who were together and got along - like Jeremy's.
What Jeremy would give to have the kind of close relationship I have with my mother.
Three completely different scenarios, yet each of us were unhappy with the one we came from. It just goes to show: Is anyone ever completely happy with their family?
Like me, we can be content; accept that things aren't, and never will be perfect – and cope with it.
Regardless of what kind of family we come from, I bet, if given the chance, we'd have an endless list of 'rooms for improvement'. Families aren't supposed to be impeccable. Siblings weren't made to get along. Life wasn't meant to be easy.
Still, to be alive is a grand thing. Contentedness is accepting the imperfections that life entails.
Monday 26 September 2005
Friday 23 September 2005
THANKYOU !!
I'd like to thank all you beautiful people who, yesterday, made my 16th birthday the absolute best! Sweet sixteen? Indeed it was.
Thanks a bunch for the greetings, the hugs, the kisses, the smiles, the laughter, the cards, the text massages, the phone calls, the belly ring and most surprisingly - that birthday cake!
Oh my gosh, I can't believe yous had the whole candle thing going on =) Plates? Spoons? Knife? Serviettes? Prepared! I think yous were more prepared for that than the trials themselves.
"Hurry up and blow the candles Noeline!" Who needs wishes when I've got friends lyk yous!
But ok.. an extra wish won't hurt.. woot!
I honestly thought no one would make a fuss as the week was full of exams, demanding hours of study and thoughts running riot in the fields of english, maths, history and geography.
A most pleasant surprise to see that you guys (you know who you are) were capable of arranging such an act behind my back.
The belly ring.. prettyfull! The cake.. delish! Chocolate.. my favourite!
My friends.. THE BEST !!
Being the 'goody two shoes' I am, you guys are aware I hardly ever swear but..
F*CK I LOVE YOU GUYS
Hope you guys all have a safe & fantabolous holiday. I'll see you guys around. Remember to behave!
Love, Noeline
xox
P.S. Happy Birthday to my gorgeous Frances on the 26th. From your #1 'effing byatch' !
Thanks a bunch for the greetings, the hugs, the kisses, the smiles, the laughter, the cards, the text massages, the phone calls, the belly ring and most surprisingly - that birthday cake!
Oh my gosh, I can't believe yous had the whole candle thing going on =) Plates? Spoons? Knife? Serviettes? Prepared! I think yous were more prepared for that than the trials themselves.
"Hurry up and blow the candles Noeline!" Who needs wishes when I've got friends lyk yous!
But ok.. an extra wish won't hurt.. woot!
I honestly thought no one would make a fuss as the week was full of exams, demanding hours of study and thoughts running riot in the fields of english, maths, history and geography.
A most pleasant surprise to see that you guys (you know who you are) were capable of arranging such an act behind my back.
The belly ring.. prettyfull! The cake.. delish! Chocolate.. my favourite!
My friends.. THE BEST !!
Being the 'goody two shoes' I am, you guys are aware I hardly ever swear but..
F*CK I LOVE YOU GUYS
Hope you guys all have a safe & fantabolous holiday. I'll see you guys around. Remember to behave!
Love, Noeline
xox
P.S. Happy Birthday to my gorgeous Frances on the 26th. From your #1 'effing byatch' !
That's how you LIKE it, huh?
The day was Friday September 9 2005. Frances, Christine, Amanda, Carmela and Noeline of 10 Aikenhead were casually waiting for the commencement of their double period of sport. Their teacher, Mrs Smith was running late; not that it mattered much, they weren't sport fanatics anyway. They were the type of people who participated in the name of fun.
Two straight lines talking quietly amongst themselves was the behaviour expectant of a grade 10 class, but on that particular day - were under the formation of sub classes scattered across the playground, divided by friendship groups bound by the balanced dynamics of personality.
Perhaps a practical sport lesson, first thing on a Friday morning was a dreaded wake up call for the students, more concerned about counting down the hours; because for the girls of All Saints, 3:05pm officially marked their weekend. The final bell was, as always, melodious. It congratulated them for making it past four days from that dreaded Monday. They had two days to either relax, or use as compensation to catch up on the work they were too lazy to complete in class.
There were the groups making final amendments to their game presentation assessment, flicking frantically over their notes, others were retreiving sport equipment in preparation for the upcoming lesson, and the rest were chatting amongst one another. There wasn't much to talk about, for they saw each other everyday, and after school would talk on the phone or chat on the internet. For every five boring conversations there was one interesting one - if you were lucky. Usually they talked about their weird dreams, how weird it was that some of them barely dreamt, sleeping in and what they had for breakfast - or their lack of it. Ever since grade 7, it was the same old.
And that's where we come in. Frances, Christine, Amanda, Carmela and I wound ourselves in an argumentative debate over the issue of 'like'. Don't even ask how it all started. It seemed to have popped out of thin air and consumed us completely, like a school of fish oblivious to the fact they were just eaten by a shark. Before you knew it we were talking at the same time, eager to get our two cents in.
The topic was 'Under what conditions do you like someone?' We would have made for a heated episode of Jerry Springer, had we not been snapped into the realisation that we were in P.E. class and not an english debating lesson - to our disappointment.
I was outnumbered in saying that I only like someone under the conditions that I am 100% certain they like me, first. There's still guys I find hot, cute, attractive - however you want to put it, but I have no intent in pursuing.
My stubborn attitude has its downfalls. Just say I was compatible with this guy but we both thought the same. He wouldn't like me unless I told him I liked him, and I wouldn't like him unless he told me he liked me. There goes the chance of a possibly fantastic relationship.
I've seen it happen too many times: Friends who secretly like a guy she's never spoken to, only to be 'heartbroken' when they see another girl in his arms. Call me lazy, ignorant or old fashioned, but I'm just not the chasing type. I don't like wasting my time thinking about someone who, at the very least doesn't even know how to spell my name. I can't be bothered missing someone who doesn't care about me... but I admire the girls who do.
It's like free falling from the sky - from your dreams, just hoping that he'll be the one person to notice that you're plummeting towards the ground and catch you when you land. Talk about extreme sport. In most cases you land injured, confused, angry and scarred for life. It's risky, that. I'm too chiken sh*t to take my chances. Too scared that a pretty girl will walk by and steal his attention; leaving me to pick myself up. It's pain I don't wish to inflict upon myself.
On the other hand Christine, Frances and Amanda saw different - not wrong; just different. They had the audacity to like the very people they were attracted to. Upon what grounds, only they themselves can say. Maybe when they aren't the type to make a big deal out of not ending up with the person they liked, or perhaps they have qualities (that I don't have) to get past it and move on to like someone else.
What surprised me furthermore was found in their saying that they were able to like someone, whilst not necessarily wanting to go out with them. If you like them, isn't that because you saw in them the intrinsic worth that makes for a potential partner? Potential husband credentials? [Guys if you're reading this make a comment and please explain]
I see it as a one way ticket to Disappointment. A journey that lasts accordingly to your feelings. If you look to the window on your left, you'll see him flirting with your worst enemy, and to your right - there he is introducing her to his family. In about five minutes we'll be passing by the beautiful church where they are soon to wed. When you've seen enough feel free to jump out.
Carmela was the fence sitter in the conversation. She recognised both sides without necessarilly taking to one. Like she said: "it depends" which is true. There's circumstances, whether you choose to acknowledge them or not. The person you like may be the same person your friend fancies, he/she may have once dated your best friend, or possibly they ARE your best friend. They may not ready be for a relationship like you are, are content cruising the single life or just don't have the time. The matter isn't black and white. There's shades of grey in between that changes the whole picture.
I love how my friends disagree with me, as odd as it sounds. They're people I can conversate with. They're my party coloured lightbulbs that help me see things in a different way. Whether they be the red, green, blue, orange, yellow or standard kind, they each emit their own light - their individual opinions on a single situation. That in itself, in my opinion, is friendship at its finest.
I'm a Virgo. A neat freak and an over analytical perfectionist. For me to maintain my sanity everything has to be logical. But in situations concerning like - what's logical? If like leads to the magic of love, where does that leave me?
For the most part, what IS love? Is it our animal instincts telling us to hurry up and do our bit in continuing the human race? Is it the surging of particular 'feel-good' hormones simply ignited by a look, a smile, a kiss? Logic, my best friend says so. But Faith, my other best friend tells me otherwise. Faith tells me that love is what makes the difference between a life wasted or a life fulfilled. Ahh, such irony.
Added 25/09/05: Today I learnt a valuable lesson. Such one that contradicts everything in the previous entry about my opinion on the whole 'like' thing.
You can like someone, but sometimes it's not enough to keep a relationship going.
There's a certain amount that fuels the duration of relationships. When it's scarce, the relationship is no longer running on like, you're pushing it - physically and emotionally.
Two straight lines talking quietly amongst themselves was the behaviour expectant of a grade 10 class, but on that particular day - were under the formation of sub classes scattered across the playground, divided by friendship groups bound by the balanced dynamics of personality.
Perhaps a practical sport lesson, first thing on a Friday morning was a dreaded wake up call for the students, more concerned about counting down the hours; because for the girls of All Saints, 3:05pm officially marked their weekend. The final bell was, as always, melodious. It congratulated them for making it past four days from that dreaded Monday. They had two days to either relax, or use as compensation to catch up on the work they were too lazy to complete in class.
There were the groups making final amendments to their game presentation assessment, flicking frantically over their notes, others were retreiving sport equipment in preparation for the upcoming lesson, and the rest were chatting amongst one another. There wasn't much to talk about, for they saw each other everyday, and after school would talk on the phone or chat on the internet. For every five boring conversations there was one interesting one - if you were lucky. Usually they talked about their weird dreams, how weird it was that some of them barely dreamt, sleeping in and what they had for breakfast - or their lack of it. Ever since grade 7, it was the same old.
And that's where we come in. Frances, Christine, Amanda, Carmela and I wound ourselves in an argumentative debate over the issue of 'like'. Don't even ask how it all started. It seemed to have popped out of thin air and consumed us completely, like a school of fish oblivious to the fact they were just eaten by a shark. Before you knew it we were talking at the same time, eager to get our two cents in.
The topic was 'Under what conditions do you like someone?' We would have made for a heated episode of Jerry Springer, had we not been snapped into the realisation that we were in P.E. class and not an english debating lesson - to our disappointment.
I was outnumbered in saying that I only like someone under the conditions that I am 100% certain they like me, first. There's still guys I find hot, cute, attractive - however you want to put it, but I have no intent in pursuing.
My stubborn attitude has its downfalls. Just say I was compatible with this guy but we both thought the same. He wouldn't like me unless I told him I liked him, and I wouldn't like him unless he told me he liked me. There goes the chance of a possibly fantastic relationship.
I've seen it happen too many times: Friends who secretly like a guy she's never spoken to, only to be 'heartbroken' when they see another girl in his arms. Call me lazy, ignorant or old fashioned, but I'm just not the chasing type. I don't like wasting my time thinking about someone who, at the very least doesn't even know how to spell my name. I can't be bothered missing someone who doesn't care about me... but I admire the girls who do.
It's like free falling from the sky - from your dreams, just hoping that he'll be the one person to notice that you're plummeting towards the ground and catch you when you land. Talk about extreme sport. In most cases you land injured, confused, angry and scarred for life. It's risky, that. I'm too chiken sh*t to take my chances. Too scared that a pretty girl will walk by and steal his attention; leaving me to pick myself up. It's pain I don't wish to inflict upon myself.
On the other hand Christine, Frances and Amanda saw different - not wrong; just different. They had the audacity to like the very people they were attracted to. Upon what grounds, only they themselves can say. Maybe when they aren't the type to make a big deal out of not ending up with the person they liked, or perhaps they have qualities (that I don't have) to get past it and move on to like someone else.
What surprised me furthermore was found in their saying that they were able to like someone, whilst not necessarily wanting to go out with them. If you like them, isn't that because you saw in them the intrinsic worth that makes for a potential partner? Potential husband credentials? [Guys if you're reading this make a comment and please explain]
I see it as a one way ticket to Disappointment. A journey that lasts accordingly to your feelings. If you look to the window on your left, you'll see him flirting with your worst enemy, and to your right - there he is introducing her to his family. In about five minutes we'll be passing by the beautiful church where they are soon to wed. When you've seen enough feel free to jump out.
Carmela was the fence sitter in the conversation. She recognised both sides without necessarilly taking to one. Like she said: "it depends" which is true. There's circumstances, whether you choose to acknowledge them or not. The person you like may be the same person your friend fancies, he/she may have once dated your best friend, or possibly they ARE your best friend. They may not ready be for a relationship like you are, are content cruising the single life or just don't have the time. The matter isn't black and white. There's shades of grey in between that changes the whole picture.
I love how my friends disagree with me, as odd as it sounds. They're people I can conversate with. They're my party coloured lightbulbs that help me see things in a different way. Whether they be the red, green, blue, orange, yellow or standard kind, they each emit their own light - their individual opinions on a single situation. That in itself, in my opinion, is friendship at its finest.
I'm a Virgo. A neat freak and an over analytical perfectionist. For me to maintain my sanity everything has to be logical. But in situations concerning like - what's logical? If like leads to the magic of love, where does that leave me?
For the most part, what IS love? Is it our animal instincts telling us to hurry up and do our bit in continuing the human race? Is it the surging of particular 'feel-good' hormones simply ignited by a look, a smile, a kiss? Logic, my best friend says so. But Faith, my other best friend tells me otherwise. Faith tells me that love is what makes the difference between a life wasted or a life fulfilled. Ahh, such irony.
Added 25/09/05: Today I learnt a valuable lesson. Such one that contradicts everything in the previous entry about my opinion on the whole 'like' thing.
You can like someone, but sometimes it's not enough to keep a relationship going.
There's a certain amount that fuels the duration of relationships. When it's scarce, the relationship is no longer running on like, you're pushing it - physically and emotionally.
Thursday 15 September 2005
Something Beautiful
I know I said I wouldn't blog for a while, but stuff it. Writing is my release and unless I write when I'm in the mood, my writing just won't be the same.
Today I woke up with a sore ankle, and it being Thursday, aerobics day, I decided it best if I perhaps stayed home. I was, although, well enough to accompany my mum in taking my brother to school. The school was holding a special presentation, showcasing their best works, performances and dances. It is a relatively new school established only a few years ago. The eldest grade reaching only to the fifth; had only four boys in the whole class. Yet it failed to lack any less a sense of community like those of much larger schools. Its young pupils were active, possibly feeding of the energy of their enthusiastic teachers, or maybe it was the other way around. The stigma of that first day of school was ditched for the joys of being with other kids their age, learning and working towards the 'student of the week' promotion.
It had been years since my days at primary school that I had forgotten what it was like. Paper Mache humpty dumpty's hung from the ceiling like trophies. Pieces of work cascaded the walls like that of a doctor's office exhibiting his certificates of qualification.
But what dredged the most forgotten of memories was in looking at the children. There was...
Something beautiful about being so innocent.
Something beautiful about their eagerness to learn.
Something beautiful about wanting to purchase a book from the book fair.
Something beautiful about fitting into such tiny clothes.
Something beautiful about having a big heart for such a small person.
Something beautiful about having your four front teeth missing and still having the audacity to mingle with the boys.
Something beautiful about rushing to eat so you can have more play time.
Something beautiful about being so carefree.
I realised that these were qualities everyone, including myself, once possessed; but we lost bit by bit with everyday that we transitioned into high school. We don't want to do our homework because it's nerdy to get awards, uncool to get the top marks. We don't want to be caught dead reading a book assigned from our English teacher, let alone for our own personal pleasure because that's boring, stupid and a waste of time. We don't want to come across as overly nice because other people will take advantage of us, like make us do their homework, continually ask for food and money, or put us down to make themselves feel better about themselves because after all they're 'just joking and we know they love us'. We wear our insecurities on our sleeves, and wear down the spirit of our friends because we feel ugly, fat, or just not in the mood. We don't want to face the boys until we've fixed our hair, glossed our lips, lined our eyes, blushed our cheeks, straightened our hair, had our nails done, updated our bitchy attitude and lost 10 kilograms. What has become of us?
If that's all a compulsory part of growing up, I'd do anything to become a kid again. The most of my worries would extend to whom to play with when your best friend is away, sick with the chicken pox? These days, it's what will you be when you grow up, boyfriends will only - and ONLY distract you from your studies, begging for money to buy an outfit for the party this weekend and how to look like those models who flood the pages of magazines, contradicting their articles about being happy with yourself.
It's good to be a kid at heart. For a few minutes we're able to relive what it was like to have something beautiful. I still like to look at the clouds and find formations of pictures, no matter how way off other people may think they are. Today I seriously considered purchasing a colouring book from that book fair – the ultimate hobby of my younger years. As my close friends will be aware, I laugh at my own stupid jokes (that aren't necessarily all that hilarious), wear a bow in my hair and am currently using the same pink lunchbox ever since kindergarten… yes, the good old PINK lunchbox! It's served me well these past ten years. Having a seven year old brother has helped me maintain my love for childish movies like Madagascar, Robin Hood and 101 Dalmatians.
So, never say that he or she is JUST a kid.
Admire them for their pure smiles, the kind that has nothing to hide.
Admire them for the laughter that pours from their heart, not the kind that puts other people down.
Admire them for the weird clothes they wear, the kind that accentuates their bright soul.
Admire them for their dreams and their imagination, the kind they dream themselves, not the kind they have to impress anyone else but themselves.
Today I woke up with a sore ankle, and it being Thursday, aerobics day, I decided it best if I perhaps stayed home. I was, although, well enough to accompany my mum in taking my brother to school. The school was holding a special presentation, showcasing their best works, performances and dances. It is a relatively new school established only a few years ago. The eldest grade reaching only to the fifth; had only four boys in the whole class. Yet it failed to lack any less a sense of community like those of much larger schools. Its young pupils were active, possibly feeding of the energy of their enthusiastic teachers, or maybe it was the other way around. The stigma of that first day of school was ditched for the joys of being with other kids their age, learning and working towards the 'student of the week' promotion.
It had been years since my days at primary school that I had forgotten what it was like. Paper Mache humpty dumpty's hung from the ceiling like trophies. Pieces of work cascaded the walls like that of a doctor's office exhibiting his certificates of qualification.
But what dredged the most forgotten of memories was in looking at the children. There was...
Something beautiful about being so innocent.
Something beautiful about their eagerness to learn.
Something beautiful about wanting to purchase a book from the book fair.
Something beautiful about fitting into such tiny clothes.
Something beautiful about having a big heart for such a small person.
Something beautiful about having your four front teeth missing and still having the audacity to mingle with the boys.
Something beautiful about rushing to eat so you can have more play time.
Something beautiful about being so carefree.
I realised that these were qualities everyone, including myself, once possessed; but we lost bit by bit with everyday that we transitioned into high school. We don't want to do our homework because it's nerdy to get awards, uncool to get the top marks. We don't want to be caught dead reading a book assigned from our English teacher, let alone for our own personal pleasure because that's boring, stupid and a waste of time. We don't want to come across as overly nice because other people will take advantage of us, like make us do their homework, continually ask for food and money, or put us down to make themselves feel better about themselves because after all they're 'just joking and we know they love us'. We wear our insecurities on our sleeves, and wear down the spirit of our friends because we feel ugly, fat, or just not in the mood. We don't want to face the boys until we've fixed our hair, glossed our lips, lined our eyes, blushed our cheeks, straightened our hair, had our nails done, updated our bitchy attitude and lost 10 kilograms. What has become of us?
If that's all a compulsory part of growing up, I'd do anything to become a kid again. The most of my worries would extend to whom to play with when your best friend is away, sick with the chicken pox? These days, it's what will you be when you grow up, boyfriends will only - and ONLY distract you from your studies, begging for money to buy an outfit for the party this weekend and how to look like those models who flood the pages of magazines, contradicting their articles about being happy with yourself.
It's good to be a kid at heart. For a few minutes we're able to relive what it was like to have something beautiful. I still like to look at the clouds and find formations of pictures, no matter how way off other people may think they are. Today I seriously considered purchasing a colouring book from that book fair – the ultimate hobby of my younger years. As my close friends will be aware, I laugh at my own stupid jokes (that aren't necessarily all that hilarious), wear a bow in my hair and am currently using the same pink lunchbox ever since kindergarten… yes, the good old PINK lunchbox! It's served me well these past ten years. Having a seven year old brother has helped me maintain my love for childish movies like Madagascar, Robin Hood and 101 Dalmatians.
So, never say that he or she is JUST a kid.
Admire them for their pure smiles, the kind that has nothing to hide.
Admire them for the laughter that pours from their heart, not the kind that puts other people down.
Admire them for the weird clothes they wear, the kind that accentuates their bright soul.
Admire them for their dreams and their imagination, the kind they dream themselves, not the kind they have to impress anyone else but themselves.
Saturday 3 September 2005
I Hate Love
Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armour, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid reason, no different from any other stupid reason, wanders into your stupid life. You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and rips-you-apart-pain. I hate love. - Niel Gaiman (English born American author of The Sandman, b. 1960)
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