Liverpool Westfields looks like the inside of a circus tent. The renovations better be worth the current eye sore.
I love my friends.
I love the way we congregate like an Asian flea market in front of room 4 every recess and lunch.
I love the way the boys act like 2 year old kids, running riot in the body of a 16 year old.
I love the way Kris and I find ways of categorising anything edible as unhealthy, even if it's a wholemeal sandwhich with mayonnaise, lettuce and tomato.
I love the way Benjo and I abuse usage of the words 'retard', and phrases like 'no you're gay' and 'yah mohn', and making our own words like 'gaytard'.
I love the way Frances always asks what something tastes like, even if she's tried it a million times before.
I love the Deep&Meaningfuls that Charizma, Alvie and I have in the middle of the footpath about the relationships we've had, falling in love and just life in general.
I love the way Royce does stupid Jim Carey impersonations and clicks it.
I love the way we share and pick at each other's food, like a baby to it's mother breast - second nature.
I love my family.
I love the way my mum laughs at the stupidest things, or pulls jokes that MIGHT have had a chance of being funny in 1983.
I love the way that I laugh at those very jokes.
I love the way my brother, Emmanuel and I spend one hour saying goodnight, because good night turns into conversation like "Remember the Backstret Boys poster you had on your wall and we kept making fun of The Guy With The Glasses?..."
I love the way my other brother, Chris, has practically memorised the tv guide... "At 10:30 it's American Dad.. and before that at 9:30 it's Amazing race".
I love the relationship I have with my boyfriend.
I love the way he's my Toys and I'm his Lolies.
I love how we joke around, blaming each other for things, even non-existent matters.
I love how he looks when he wears his contacts, even more so with his glasses on, but most of all with his swimming goggles on.
I love correcting him.
I love how proving each other wrong through theories that would make Einstein and Aristotle cry means earning a point.
I love the way we look after each other when we're not under the best of weather.
I love the way we hang out at home in the daggiest clothes.
I love spending time with him, hours of which pass by like minutes.
20 reasons why I'm loving life.
One week till school holidays. Make that 21 reasons.
Thursday, 6 April 2006
Wednesday, 5 April 2006
Going up?
And so the saying goes: Once bitten twice shy.
From that, can it be said: Once lied to twice as arrogant?
For some its twice, for others its three times, but for the over traumatised people like me out there, its always.
With pain comes experience, so upon hitting the single stockmarket once again, what does it mean to start on a completely clean slate? Is that even possible?
With any disappointment, do we not create tactics for self improvement? With any failure, do we not try our best to see that it doesn't happen again?
So what does it mean exactly, to give love another shot, without disregarding the lessons learnt from past relationships?
Don't get me wrong, I wasn't brought up taught that boys were the root of all female pain and suffering. Experience taught me that; starting with my Dad, the boyfriends, and the boys who tried to be my boyfriend.
You're all probably thinking that I'm being the Queen of Cynicism but what the heck, I'm young and dumb, so I might as well voice my opinion while age and immaturity are still valid excuses for my stupid ways of thinking. Mind you, I'll probably read this ten years from now and feel like moving to Mexico and make a new identity. Even William Shakespeare had his chance of denouncing life in his poem 'As You Like It'. And since I'm enjoying life and can't write poetry, this entry that badmouths men was the next best thing. Sweet compromise.
I've got my reasons for thinking that boys (just the ones mentioned above) are stupid; in the same way that bullies have reasons for making other people feel bad. It's my way of dealing with my issues.
Since the Story of Creation or The Big Bang (for the non Christians out there), like any organism, I'm the product of my environment. My bigoted attitude is an adaptation. I've got a semi permeable brain that helps prevent chunks of BIG FAT LIE from reaching my heart. I have an in-built auto translator that converts dialect into their true meaning. Like when he says I like you, I'll do whatever it takes, or I only want you. Phrases that they feel like taking back when the affection isn't returned.
Hence, life has made me one of those people with an urge to hi-five Madonna who sings "Don't explain yourself 'cos talk is cheap". I'm a proud member of the 'ASLTWC' (Actions Speak Louder Than Words Club).
We'll see who does whatever it takes when they stop trying.
All this, coming from the girl whose never been in love. Bet you all can't wait until the entry that I profess my love for someone. That'll be the day.
In conclusion, anyone reading this can share in the self realisation that I'm a dirty girl who never starts her relationships on a completely clean slate. Through words, they scratch... and I'm no longer the same girl who thought boyfriends were for talking about with your friends, fixing things, replacing busted light bulbs, killing cockroaches, and living with you when you were older so they could protect you against monsters, ghosts and burglars... and dearly at times I wish I still was.
From that, can it be said: Once lied to twice as arrogant?
For some its twice, for others its three times, but for the over traumatised people like me out there, its always.
With pain comes experience, so upon hitting the single stockmarket once again, what does it mean to start on a completely clean slate? Is that even possible?
With any disappointment, do we not create tactics for self improvement? With any failure, do we not try our best to see that it doesn't happen again?
So what does it mean exactly, to give love another shot, without disregarding the lessons learnt from past relationships?
Don't get me wrong, I wasn't brought up taught that boys were the root of all female pain and suffering. Experience taught me that; starting with my Dad, the boyfriends, and the boys who tried to be my boyfriend.
You're all probably thinking that I'm being the Queen of Cynicism but what the heck, I'm young and dumb, so I might as well voice my opinion while age and immaturity are still valid excuses for my stupid ways of thinking. Mind you, I'll probably read this ten years from now and feel like moving to Mexico and make a new identity. Even William Shakespeare had his chance of denouncing life in his poem 'As You Like It'. And since I'm enjoying life and can't write poetry, this entry that badmouths men was the next best thing. Sweet compromise.
I've got my reasons for thinking that boys (just the ones mentioned above) are stupid; in the same way that bullies have reasons for making other people feel bad. It's my way of dealing with my issues.
Since the Story of Creation or The Big Bang (for the non Christians out there), like any organism, I'm the product of my environment. My bigoted attitude is an adaptation. I've got a semi permeable brain that helps prevent chunks of BIG FAT LIE from reaching my heart. I have an in-built auto translator that converts dialect into their true meaning. Like when he says I like you, I'll do whatever it takes, or I only want you. Phrases that they feel like taking back when the affection isn't returned.
Hence, life has made me one of those people with an urge to hi-five Madonna who sings "Don't explain yourself 'cos talk is cheap". I'm a proud member of the 'ASLTWC' (Actions Speak Louder Than Words Club).
We'll see who does whatever it takes when they stop trying.
All this, coming from the girl whose never been in love. Bet you all can't wait until the entry that I profess my love for someone. That'll be the day.
In conclusion, anyone reading this can share in the self realisation that I'm a dirty girl who never starts her relationships on a completely clean slate. Through words, they scratch... and I'm no longer the same girl who thought boyfriends were for talking about with your friends, fixing things, replacing busted light bulbs, killing cockroaches, and living with you when you were older so they could protect you against monsters, ghosts and burglars... and dearly at times I wish I still was.
Remember when getting high meant swinging at the playground?
The worst thing you could get from boys were cooties.
Mum was your hero and Dad was the boy you were going to marry.
Your worst enemies were your siblings.
Race issues were who ran the fastest.
War was a card game.
The only drug you knew of was cough medicine.
Wearing skirts didn't mean you were a slut.
The only thing you smoked were the tyres on your bike.
The only thing that hurt were skinned knees.
The only thing that could get broken were your toys.
Goodbyes only meant until tomorrow.
Life was simple and carefree.
But what I remember the most was actually wanting to grow up.
Sunday, 19 March 2006
Leftovers
Leftover
noun. Boys of whom have already given the best of himself to someone else.
This goes out to the girls out there who continually find themselves stuck with 'The Leftovers.'
This goes out to the girls who have never been "His First True Love', 'The One', or 'That Girl'; but rather - the one after 'His First True Love', the girl after 'The One', or the girl who came after 'That Girl'.
This goes out to the girls who are smart, funny, amazing and beautiful - but seemingly not enough so compared to a significant other from his past.
This goes out to the girls who always find themselves second in line to an encore relationship, and have a hard act to follow.
This goes out to the girls who are make do with the short end of the stick, the lower end of the deal - the boy who just came out of the best kind of love he's ever known - to date.
This goes out to the girls who will never know what it's like to be the most unforgettable, because 'you never forget your first true love'.
This goes out to the girls who end up hurting due to a relationship they had NOTHING to do with. But instead, end up nurturing and comforting an injured heart, finding themselves drawn towards a guy who's not yet ready, who just got out of a bad relationship, who is confused about his feelings - concerning you AND her, who is a little more reserved, who is a little less trusting, and a little less willing to put as much effort into girls anymore.
This goes out to the girls who play nurse to a boy with a broken heart, aware that upon recovery there's a big chance he'll run back to her... because 'there's just something about her'.
This goes out to the girls who will never understand the way she just hurts him, the way he just takes her back, or the way we put up with it.
This goes out to the girls who are willing to make him their world - given the chance. Given that he's moved on. Given that you're NOTHING like her, but can make him just as happy - if not happier, if not for longer... But aren't because he's still fixated on the same old girl, the same old vision of the future and the same old routine for so long that he doesn't know otherwise. And maybe he doesn't want to, because he put in too much time to let go, maybe not even for you.
This is for the girls who know what it's like to be with a boy, whose heart still belongs to someone else, regardless of how much he says he cares about YOU and loves YOU and feels for YOU. We know it's partly, if not all about HER. Competing against someone tucked away in the back of his mind.
This goes out to the girls who have been made to feel like second rate quality girlfriends, silver medal winners who never quite make the cut. Rebounds.
Know that there's a reason why God made things this way. I have yet to find out for myself. Maybe it's because we're stronger than the girls who walk over our men like dirt. Maybe it's to make us all the more appreciative when 'Mr Right' does finally come along. A kind of appreciation that only comes from years of tending to 'The Leftovers'.
After all, is it not the best that is saved for last?
Where words fail, music speaks...
noun. Boys of whom have already given the best of himself to someone else.
This goes out to the girls out there who continually find themselves stuck with 'The Leftovers.'
This goes out to the girls who have never been "His First True Love', 'The One', or 'That Girl'; but rather - the one after 'His First True Love', the girl after 'The One', or the girl who came after 'That Girl'.
This goes out to the girls who are smart, funny, amazing and beautiful - but seemingly not enough so compared to a significant other from his past.
This goes out to the girls who always find themselves second in line to an encore relationship, and have a hard act to follow.
This goes out to the girls who are make do with the short end of the stick, the lower end of the deal - the boy who just came out of the best kind of love he's ever known - to date.
This goes out to the girls who will never know what it's like to be the most unforgettable, because 'you never forget your first true love'.
This goes out to the girls who end up hurting due to a relationship they had NOTHING to do with. But instead, end up nurturing and comforting an injured heart, finding themselves drawn towards a guy who's not yet ready, who just got out of a bad relationship, who is confused about his feelings - concerning you AND her, who is a little more reserved, who is a little less trusting, and a little less willing to put as much effort into girls anymore.
This goes out to the girls who play nurse to a boy with a broken heart, aware that upon recovery there's a big chance he'll run back to her... because 'there's just something about her'.
This goes out to the girls who will never understand the way she just hurts him, the way he just takes her back, or the way we put up with it.
This goes out to the girls who are willing to make him their world - given the chance. Given that he's moved on. Given that you're NOTHING like her, but can make him just as happy - if not happier, if not for longer... But aren't because he's still fixated on the same old girl, the same old vision of the future and the same old routine for so long that he doesn't know otherwise. And maybe he doesn't want to, because he put in too much time to let go, maybe not even for you.
This is for the girls who know what it's like to be with a boy, whose heart still belongs to someone else, regardless of how much he says he cares about YOU and loves YOU and feels for YOU. We know it's partly, if not all about HER. Competing against someone tucked away in the back of his mind.
This goes out to the girls who have been made to feel like second rate quality girlfriends, silver medal winners who never quite make the cut. Rebounds.
Know that there's a reason why God made things this way. I have yet to find out for myself. Maybe it's because we're stronger than the girls who walk over our men like dirt. Maybe it's to make us all the more appreciative when 'Mr Right' does finally come along. A kind of appreciation that only comes from years of tending to 'The Leftovers'.
After all, is it not the best that is saved for last?
Where words fail, music speaks...
Almost Doesn't Count - Brandy
Almost made you love me
Almost made you cry
Almost made you happy, baby
Didn't I didn't I
You almost had me thinkin'
You were turned around
But everybody knows
Almost doesn't count
Almost heard you saying
You were finally free
What was always missing for you, baby
You'd found it in me
But you can't get to heaven
Half off the ground
Everybody knows
Almost doesn't count
I can't keep on lovin' you
One foot outside the door
I hear a funny hesitation
Of a heart that's never really sure
Can't keep on tryin'
If you're looking for more
Than all that I could give you
Than what you came here for
Gonna find me somebody
Not afraid to let go
Want a no doubt be there kind of man
You came real close
But everytime you built me up
You only let me down
And everybody knows
Almost doesn't count
Maybe you'll be sorry
Maybe you'll be cold
Maybe you'll come runnin' back, baby
From the cruel cruel world
Almost convince me
You're gonna stick around
But everybody knows
Almost doesn't count
So maybe I'll be here
Maybe I'll see ya 'round
That's the way it goes
Almost doesn't count
Tuesday, 14 March 2006
Boys are supid, throw rocks at them
WARNING
The following entry may contain foul language that may be offensive to some readers. Viewer discretion is advised. It contains frequent coarse language, sexual references and rant from a pissed off, male-hating (at the present moment) bitch. Every girl who's 'too nice' is entitled to her moments; and this one's mine.
Relationship Rule #1
Thou shall not compare me to her.
For the first time since pre-school, fighting over the slide, it's about ME, ME, ME!
You're with us now. Your relationship with us is NOT a game of spot-the-difference. We don't care who was prettier, smarter or funnier. We want to know that there's certain feelings you have for only one person in the world, that being me.
Thanks for treating me like an individual.
Relationship Rule #2
Thou shall not bullshit.
Keep it to yourself, we prefer you look constipated than feed us with your crap.
Your attraction to us is not a seal of approval, nor a sign from God, that you've actually moved on. So until you have, save that distasteful "I Love You" for when it's truly relevant. Say it because you mean it, not because you're trying to convince yourself that you do. You'll save both of us a lot of unnecessary trouble, two confused people in the world is two confused people too many. So in a way, you're doing humanity a favour. You deserve a medal.
Thanks for not playing me like a fool.
I got my Learner's Lisence on Saturday. The road is no longer a safe place; sorry folks. On the way to the Motor Registry my mum was getting agitated by this L-plate driver in front of us. Didn't she realise that that would be me one day? I want to learn manual but I'm not so keen on paying for the lessons. For starters, my family doesn't even own a manual car. On the way home, mum ran a red light. There goes my last resort, learning from her may not be the safest idea. I love her.
Later was Benjo's 16th birthday dinner. Present was Chiz, Alvie, Gelli, AJ, Danica, Sancho, Denielle, Elias, Ivan, Aileen, Gil and I. It was evident that Pancakes weren't the only thing On The Rocks that night. It appeared to be a trend among the girls that night. You dick waggers really need to get your act together, or else we're going lesbian.
Luckily, the orgasmic tasting food distracted us for a good hour. Cheers to those lip-smack-tastic barbeque ribs. I recommend it to everyone. If you're anything like Chiz you'll be glad it comes with salad and wedges.
There's nothing like a night on the harbourside. The amazing view, the breathtaking atmosphere and incredible friends to match.
On Sunday, Chester's little sister Rheannon walked into a wall, and was fine. It was the cutest thing in the world. She likes to take me away from my boyfriend, hold my hand and show me her toys. It was the cutest thing in the world. When Chester was younger he cut the hair off his stuffed lion because he thought it was growing. Now I know where Rheannon gets her cuteness from.
I feel better now. Hey isn't that like the slogan to some television ad? I can't quite put my finger on it. But really, I do.
The following entry may contain foul language that may be offensive to some readers. Viewer discretion is advised. It contains frequent coarse language, sexual references and rant from a pissed off, male-hating (at the present moment) bitch. Every girl who's 'too nice' is entitled to her moments; and this one's mine.
Relationship Rule #1
Thou shall not compare me to her.
For the first time since pre-school, fighting over the slide, it's about ME, ME, ME!
You're with us now. Your relationship with us is NOT a game of spot-the-difference. We don't care who was prettier, smarter or funnier. We want to know that there's certain feelings you have for only one person in the world, that being me.
Thanks for treating me like an individual.
Relationship Rule #2
Thou shall not bullshit.
Keep it to yourself, we prefer you look constipated than feed us with your crap.
Your attraction to us is not a seal of approval, nor a sign from God, that you've actually moved on. So until you have, save that distasteful "I Love You" for when it's truly relevant. Say it because you mean it, not because you're trying to convince yourself that you do. You'll save both of us a lot of unnecessary trouble, two confused people in the world is two confused people too many. So in a way, you're doing humanity a favour. You deserve a medal.
Thanks for not playing me like a fool.
Goodbye - Alicia Keys
How do you love someone
That hurts you oh so bad
With intentions good
Was all he ever had...
What went wrong with something once so good
How do you find the words to say
To say goodbye...
When your heart don't have the heart to say
To say goodbye...
I know now I was naive
Never knew where this would lead
And I'm not trying to take away
From the good man that he is...
Was it something wrong that we did?
Because others infiltrated?
What went wrong with something once so good...
Is this the end, are you sure
How should you know when you've never been here before
It's so hard to just let go...
I got my Learner's Lisence on Saturday. The road is no longer a safe place; sorry folks. On the way to the Motor Registry my mum was getting agitated by this L-plate driver in front of us. Didn't she realise that that would be me one day? I want to learn manual but I'm not so keen on paying for the lessons. For starters, my family doesn't even own a manual car. On the way home, mum ran a red light. There goes my last resort, learning from her may not be the safest idea. I love her.
Later was Benjo's 16th birthday dinner. Present was Chiz, Alvie, Gelli, AJ, Danica, Sancho, Denielle, Elias, Ivan, Aileen, Gil and I. It was evident that Pancakes weren't the only thing On The Rocks that night. It appeared to be a trend among the girls that night. You dick waggers really need to get your act together, or else we're going lesbian.
"It's hard to find a man who can live up to any of my woman friends" - Jeniffer Aniston
Luckily, the orgasmic tasting food distracted us for a good hour. Cheers to those lip-smack-tastic barbeque ribs. I recommend it to everyone. If you're anything like Chiz you'll be glad it comes with salad and wedges.
There's nothing like a night on the harbourside. The amazing view, the breathtaking atmosphere and incredible friends to match.
On Sunday, Chester's little sister Rheannon walked into a wall, and was fine. It was the cutest thing in the world. She likes to take me away from my boyfriend, hold my hand and show me her toys. It was the cutest thing in the world. When Chester was younger he cut the hair off his stuffed lion because he thought it was growing. Now I know where Rheannon gets her cuteness from.
I feel better now. Hey isn't that like the slogan to some television ad? I can't quite put my finger on it. But really, I do.
Monday, 20 February 2006
Get over it
When we laugh hysterically at a revived knock knock joke, most people don't find it as funny and tell us to 'get over it'.
When you see a girl at the party wearing a top from the supré range two years old, the rest of the girls bitch about how she should 'get over it' and buy a new one.
When someone mourns the loss of a departed loved one, everyone else, after offering their condolences, say to each other 'don't worry, she'll get over it'.
As if 'getting over it' will almost deny it of ever being funny, ever being a nice looking top, ever being someone who meant the world to you.
I think people mistake 'getting over it' with 'moving on'. I'm not about to blog about my encounter with the lame joke I found unbelievably funny, the girl at the dance party who wore an old season top, or the time my friend lost her grandmother... but about how this whole get over it and moving on thing relates to relationships.
Here's a question for you: Does anybody every really get over anyone?
Most of us have probably been in a relationship and pondered over past ones, only to feel guilty. Had you given that fight a little more time, would you have eventually got back together? Would hearing how he REALLY felt behind the Whatever's, the Dont-Talk-To-Me's and I-Hate-You's make you take him back?
If you've reminised about an ex-boyfriend, you're NOT over him. But hold your horses, don't pack your bags for the 6 day 7 night guilt trip just yet.
The way I see it, no one's never completely over anyone. Because to be over someone is to say that what the both of you shared amounted to nothing in the end, that you didn't grow as a person, and that you learnt nothing from being with him.
People who have properly moved on don't get over their past relationships, because the x-men (ex-boyfriends) still treated you like a princess in the beginning and crowned themselves King of I-Could'nt Care-Less-About-You-Land, they still made empty promises, and didn't keep their word about staying in contact after breaking up... memories of which still hurt.
They hurt because you're not over it.
People who have properly moved on don't get over their past relationships, because the x-men still wrote that love song dedicated to you, gave up nights out with his friends to be with or talk to you and text messaged you every morning - to the point where they almost started to say the exact same thing... memories of which still make you smile.
They make you smile because you're not over it.
Moving on is an artform. To leave these terrible, bittersweet, amazing moments behind (yes, in the past! Never to be relived physically again. I repeat: IN THE PAST), and prepare to have more with someone new. It's nothing to be guilty over. It's just the way it is.
When you see a girl at the party wearing a top from the supré range two years old, the rest of the girls bitch about how she should 'get over it' and buy a new one.
When someone mourns the loss of a departed loved one, everyone else, after offering their condolences, say to each other 'don't worry, she'll get over it'.
As if 'getting over it' will almost deny it of ever being funny, ever being a nice looking top, ever being someone who meant the world to you.
I think people mistake 'getting over it' with 'moving on'. I'm not about to blog about my encounter with the lame joke I found unbelievably funny, the girl at the dance party who wore an old season top, or the time my friend lost her grandmother... but about how this whole get over it and moving on thing relates to relationships.
Here's a question for you: Does anybody every really get over anyone?
Most of us have probably been in a relationship and pondered over past ones, only to feel guilty. Had you given that fight a little more time, would you have eventually got back together? Would hearing how he REALLY felt behind the Whatever's, the Dont-Talk-To-Me's and I-Hate-You's make you take him back?
If you've reminised about an ex-boyfriend, you're NOT over him. But hold your horses, don't pack your bags for the 6 day 7 night guilt trip just yet.
The way I see it, no one's never completely over anyone. Because to be over someone is to say that what the both of you shared amounted to nothing in the end, that you didn't grow as a person, and that you learnt nothing from being with him.
People who have properly moved on don't get over their past relationships, because the x-men (ex-boyfriends) still treated you like a princess in the beginning and crowned themselves King of I-Could'nt Care-Less-About-You-Land, they still made empty promises, and didn't keep their word about staying in contact after breaking up... memories of which still hurt.
They hurt because you're not over it.
People who have properly moved on don't get over their past relationships, because the x-men still wrote that love song dedicated to you, gave up nights out with his friends to be with or talk to you and text messaged you every morning - to the point where they almost started to say the exact same thing... memories of which still make you smile.
They make you smile because you're not over it.
Moving on is an artform. To leave these terrible, bittersweet, amazing moments behind (yes, in the past! Never to be relived physically again. I repeat: IN THE PAST), and prepare to have more with someone new. It's nothing to be guilty over. It's just the way it is.
Fantasia barrino - Truth Is
Ran into an old friend yesterday
Caught me by surprise when he called my name
He was a familiar face, from a chapter in my past
Talked for a while, asked him how it's been
Said that he was seeing somebody and
Told me this was gonna last
Showing me her photograph
And all the feelings that I thought were gone
Came rushing back to me at once
Tried to smile and hide the way I felt
But I was thinking to myself
Truth is I never got over you
Truth is Wish I was standing in her shoes
Truth is And when it's all said and done
Guess I'm still in love with you
Truth is I never should have let you go
Truth is And it's killing me cuz now I know
Truth is And when it's all said and done
Guess I'm still in love with you
We reminisce on the way things used to be
Shared a couple laughs, shared some memories
Talked about the things that changed
Some for good and some for bad
Then he said good-bye and he paid for lunch
Promised that we'd always keep in touch
Grabbed my bags and grabbed my thoughts
Walked away and that was that
Monday, 13 February 2006
Moolah
A Deakin University study, has found that residents of Australia's poorest cities are happier than those in wealthier suburbs.
This was drawn from inquiries about standard of living, health, achievement, personal relationships, peace of mind, community spirit and future prospects.
People of poorer, regional and rural areas wear more grins than individuals of economically booming, well-off and wealthy areas.
It just goes to show that money doesn't buy happiness after all.
Just finished watching desperate housewives. The end narration caught my attention. It went a little something like: "Why are we so controlling? Because to lose it would mean putting our lives in the hands of someone else".
Don't you just love it when things make sense?
Happy Valentines Day for tomorrow, everyone! Now there's something to smile about.
Love, Noeline
xox
This was drawn from inquiries about standard of living, health, achievement, personal relationships, peace of mind, community spirit and future prospects.
People of poorer, regional and rural areas wear more grins than individuals of economically booming, well-off and wealthy areas.
It just goes to show that money doesn't buy happiness after all.
Just finished watching desperate housewives. The end narration caught my attention. It went a little something like: "Why are we so controlling? Because to lose it would mean putting our lives in the hands of someone else".
Don't you just love it when things make sense?
Happy Valentines Day for tomorrow, everyone! Now there's something to smile about.
Love, Noeline
xox
Thursday, 26 January 2006
Opposites attract, sometimes
Have you ever thought about what drives two people together?
They say that opposites attract, a fatal attraction; two extraordinarily different people. His shy nature rocked her boat of unsinkable confidence.
I was thinking about this, and realised that similarities play just as significant a role in relationships. What about two people drawn together by their desperation, lonelines, and a shared longingness to feel loved?
Sure, opposites are great. What one person has a passion for, is able to share with someone who has never experienced such a joy - or bore at that. David's* passion for cricket enabled Jill* to learn the ropes of such a game, and found that she, too enjoyed it. Through watching the games on television together, and occasionaly witnessing them live as a couple, David* and Jill* created a tradition for years to come. That was until they broke up. David's* new girlriend Fiona* took no interest in cricket, knew how much it meant to him, and didn't take it personally when he was too consumed in the game for kissing and hugging.
On the off-hand, similarities can be just as disastruous as in-breeding. As most people are aware, similar DNA - like those common within a family, when bred, carry the complicatins of deformities in the new born. In the same way, a little something called compromise would be foreign to a stubbourn couple, where each party wants things done their way.
Desperation for appreciation, love, company or even sex are not legitimate reasons to engage in a relationship. It's these insecurities which cause problems later on; they aren't as grateful anymore, they don't show they love you enough, they're no longer around as much, you're not getting enough sex. Still, it happens.
Most cases of heartbreak are self inflicted. Go into a relationship with self worth, self respect and dignity. He's lucky to have someone like you. It would be an honour, not a given if he ever got into your pants. You're too good to be screwed over - emotionally and physically.
Love isn't something you gain from having a boyfriend; it's something that develops: starting with the love you have for yourself. Love your figure and know that someone lucky out there will appreciate them. Love your sense of humour and never let it go, you'll need it to brighten his rough day. Love you for your talents, qualities and abilities because one day you'll be able to amaze him with it. Love yourself because you don't throw yourself at anything with a dick and moves, because you're just the kind of girl he'll want to take home to his parents.
Call me naive, but it's no wonder people feel unmotivated, suicidal, meaningless, insignificant and empty without a boyfriend. They're looking for happiness in all the wrong places.
In this case, opposites repel. Someone clingy and protective is anything BUT attractive to someone outgoing, self motivated and has a zest for life.
I found that the best kind of relationships are those with enough enough similarities to establish a sense of being able to relate, and enough opposites to avoid the feeling that you're dating the male version of yourself.
They say that opposites attract, a fatal attraction; two extraordinarily different people. His shy nature rocked her boat of unsinkable confidence.
I was thinking about this, and realised that similarities play just as significant a role in relationships. What about two people drawn together by their desperation, lonelines, and a shared longingness to feel loved?
Sure, opposites are great. What one person has a passion for, is able to share with someone who has never experienced such a joy - or bore at that. David's* passion for cricket enabled Jill* to learn the ropes of such a game, and found that she, too enjoyed it. Through watching the games on television together, and occasionaly witnessing them live as a couple, David* and Jill* created a tradition for years to come. That was until they broke up. David's* new girlriend Fiona* took no interest in cricket, knew how much it meant to him, and didn't take it personally when he was too consumed in the game for kissing and hugging.
On the off-hand, similarities can be just as disastruous as in-breeding. As most people are aware, similar DNA - like those common within a family, when bred, carry the complicatins of deformities in the new born. In the same way, a little something called compromise would be foreign to a stubbourn couple, where each party wants things done their way.
Desperation for appreciation, love, company or even sex are not legitimate reasons to engage in a relationship. It's these insecurities which cause problems later on; they aren't as grateful anymore, they don't show they love you enough, they're no longer around as much, you're not getting enough sex. Still, it happens.
Most cases of heartbreak are self inflicted. Go into a relationship with self worth, self respect and dignity. He's lucky to have someone like you. It would be an honour, not a given if he ever got into your pants. You're too good to be screwed over - emotionally and physically.
Love isn't something you gain from having a boyfriend; it's something that develops: starting with the love you have for yourself. Love your figure and know that someone lucky out there will appreciate them. Love your sense of humour and never let it go, you'll need it to brighten his rough day. Love you for your talents, qualities and abilities because one day you'll be able to amaze him with it. Love yourself because you don't throw yourself at anything with a dick and moves, because you're just the kind of girl he'll want to take home to his parents.
Call me naive, but it's no wonder people feel unmotivated, suicidal, meaningless, insignificant and empty without a boyfriend. They're looking for happiness in all the wrong places.
In this case, opposites repel. Someone clingy and protective is anything BUT attractive to someone outgoing, self motivated and has a zest for life.
I found that the best kind of relationships are those with enough enough similarities to establish a sense of being able to relate, and enough opposites to avoid the feeling that you're dating the male version of yourself.
Sunday, 22 January 2006
Inside the mind of a nerd
I can't wait until the commencement of school. Hey, at least I'm honest about it.
I love this season; post-Christmas and kind of pre-Easter. It's that time of year when 90% of advertisements are chock-a-block full in promoting back-to-school sales.
I've had more than six weeks to miss the company of all my friends, bumping into them in shopping complexes aren't the same as that huge get together at school, passing notes during class about the what's ups for the coming weekend, picking at each others food during recess and desperate late night pleas for help with homework.
Today I had the joy of purchasing brand new stationary. There's nothing like a brand new packet of 20 kilometrico pens to inspire you in putting pen to paper, and handwriting the school year away.
And the good news is, my new purchases are right where I left them - in my pencil case; not borrowed and not returned. That won't be for long though. I went through an umpteenth number of pens in my schooling years. Hollywood should make a documentary: "The Secret Life of Pens Gone Missing".
My "spend less money" new years resolution isn't working. During these holidays I've been spending every cent I earn. See, that's what happens when I don't have assignments to distract me. I buy more clothes than the number of times I actually go out to wear them. Life was somewhat better when my mum kept my keycard.
Too much thinking, not enough time to write about them...but in short...
It's funny how some things never change. It's funny how people change. It's funny how things in life work out. Life, overall, is funny. Both ha-ha funny and that peculiar sort of funny.
What's love? We all have our own standards and definitions of it.
Like the 'ideal' size 6, tall legged, immaculate supermodels - we as society tend to conform to the ultimate image of things. But as (I hope) we all know, curves are beautiful, feminine and sexy. Just look at Beyonce Knowles, now there's a woman who knows what's good for her.
In the same respect, we all tend to aim for the fairytale definition of love: a tall dark and handsome knight in shining armour to sweep you off your feet. And unless he's as romantic as Noah from The Notebook, to risk his life hanging off the top of a ferris wheel, or renovate an old run down thing that looked like something from a horror movie into your dream home, with white shutters and a red door - that it isn't love.
Beautiful might be a size 14 with hyptnotizing eyes. Beautiful might be average height with aristocratic cheekbones. Love might be the longing for someone when they're gone, and the time that flies by too quickly when you're together. Love might be as simple as a glance while they walk past you.
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then love is whatever YOU make it to be. Nobody can tell you otherwise, it's nor right or wrong, it just IS.
I love this season; post-Christmas and kind of pre-Easter. It's that time of year when 90% of advertisements are chock-a-block full in promoting back-to-school sales.
I've had more than six weeks to miss the company of all my friends, bumping into them in shopping complexes aren't the same as that huge get together at school, passing notes during class about the what's ups for the coming weekend, picking at each others food during recess and desperate late night pleas for help with homework.
Today I had the joy of purchasing brand new stationary. There's nothing like a brand new packet of 20 kilometrico pens to inspire you in putting pen to paper, and handwriting the school year away.
And the good news is, my new purchases are right where I left them - in my pencil case; not borrowed and not returned. That won't be for long though. I went through an umpteenth number of pens in my schooling years. Hollywood should make a documentary: "The Secret Life of Pens Gone Missing".
My "spend less money" new years resolution isn't working. During these holidays I've been spending every cent I earn. See, that's what happens when I don't have assignments to distract me. I buy more clothes than the number of times I actually go out to wear them. Life was somewhat better when my mum kept my keycard.
Too much thinking, not enough time to write about them...but in short...
It's funny how some things never change. It's funny how people change. It's funny how things in life work out. Life, overall, is funny. Both ha-ha funny and that peculiar sort of funny.
What's love? We all have our own standards and definitions of it.
Like the 'ideal' size 6, tall legged, immaculate supermodels - we as society tend to conform to the ultimate image of things. But as (I hope) we all know, curves are beautiful, feminine and sexy. Just look at Beyonce Knowles, now there's a woman who knows what's good for her.
In the same respect, we all tend to aim for the fairytale definition of love: a tall dark and handsome knight in shining armour to sweep you off your feet. And unless he's as romantic as Noah from The Notebook, to risk his life hanging off the top of a ferris wheel, or renovate an old run down thing that looked like something from a horror movie into your dream home, with white shutters and a red door - that it isn't love.
Beautiful might be a size 14 with hyptnotizing eyes. Beautiful might be average height with aristocratic cheekbones. Love might be the longing for someone when they're gone, and the time that flies by too quickly when you're together. Love might be as simple as a glance while they walk past you.
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then love is whatever YOU make it to be. Nobody can tell you otherwise, it's nor right or wrong, it just IS.
Tuesday, 10 January 2006
BE. Clear & Simple.
They say that love is blind, a feeling not seen, but felt.
If that is the case, when you love someone you provide some sort of fulfilment, satisfaction, happiness and a sense of meaning to life; that all the material objects in the world, combined, cannot offer.
Love is not devouring the Swiss Belgium chocolates your partner gave on Valentines Day. Nor is love the teddy bear that you enclose in your arms, in the absence of that special someone.
Gifts are merely symbols, signifying the bond between two people; a fondness if harboured correctly, once created cannot be detroyed. That's my interpretation of "true love never dies". It may change form, such as hatred, friendship or bittersweet memories; but it happened and it's always there.
Although unspoken, it has become a well respected accord on both sides of the Love Battlefield that when the fighting, accusations, screaming, tearshed and hating-of-guts have occured one too many times - it's time objects symbolising the relationship between you and whats-his-face are annihilated. This speeds up the get-over-him process... but what goes up too quickly must come down eventually.
After all has been said and done, ater the disposing of gifts too painful to look at, after returning his belongings, after burning the photographs and the letters, after deleting his number from your phone... ONE thing remains.
Like the ashes left behind from a raging fire, it's the memories that float around - the products of something once fervid. One may find these memories a detriment from moving on, or a realisation that the sparks are still there.
A relationship held together by endowment can be taken away easier than it is given. If you're only going to shower her with presents, she needs only to dispose of those presents before she moves on. Give her something she can't just throw away.
Guys, we're not complicated. That's some horrible folk tale that's been retold for generations. You don't need a university degree in Relationships For Dummies to figure us out. Simply: talk to her, respect her, make her laugh, make her smile, appreciate her; and do it like you mean it. Ask nothing of her but to be herself. Do it because making her happy makes you happy.
Among many things, it's hard to forget the way you give in to pointless arguments so that we get the last word; as women, we live off moments like these. It's hard to forget the way you look when you're falling asleep. It's hard to forget the hours spent talking about sweet nothings. Actually, all of that was an understatement. It's IMPOSSIBLE to forget.
It's the simple things in life we overlook.
It's the little things that make a big difference.
It's the small things that are easiest to give, yet the hardest to let go.
If that is the case, when you love someone you provide some sort of fulfilment, satisfaction, happiness and a sense of meaning to life; that all the material objects in the world, combined, cannot offer.
Love is not devouring the Swiss Belgium chocolates your partner gave on Valentines Day. Nor is love the teddy bear that you enclose in your arms, in the absence of that special someone.
Gifts are merely symbols, signifying the bond between two people; a fondness if harboured correctly, once created cannot be detroyed. That's my interpretation of "true love never dies". It may change form, such as hatred, friendship or bittersweet memories; but it happened and it's always there.
Although unspoken, it has become a well respected accord on both sides of the Love Battlefield that when the fighting, accusations, screaming, tearshed and hating-of-guts have occured one too many times - it's time objects symbolising the relationship between you and whats-his-face are annihilated. This speeds up the get-over-him process... but what goes up too quickly must come down eventually.
After all has been said and done, ater the disposing of gifts too painful to look at, after returning his belongings, after burning the photographs and the letters, after deleting his number from your phone... ONE thing remains.
Like the ashes left behind from a raging fire, it's the memories that float around - the products of something once fervid. One may find these memories a detriment from moving on, or a realisation that the sparks are still there.
A relationship held together by endowment can be taken away easier than it is given. If you're only going to shower her with presents, she needs only to dispose of those presents before she moves on. Give her something she can't just throw away.
Guys, we're not complicated. That's some horrible folk tale that's been retold for generations. You don't need a university degree in Relationships For Dummies to figure us out. Simply: talk to her, respect her, make her laugh, make her smile, appreciate her; and do it like you mean it. Ask nothing of her but to be herself. Do it because making her happy makes you happy.
Among many things, it's hard to forget the way you give in to pointless arguments so that we get the last word; as women, we live off moments like these. It's hard to forget the way you look when you're falling asleep. It's hard to forget the hours spent talking about sweet nothings. Actually, all of that was an understatement. It's IMPOSSIBLE to forget.
It's the simple things in life we overlook.
It's the little things that make a big difference.
It's the small things that are easiest to give, yet the hardest to let go.
Sunday, 1 January 2006
New Year. New Start. New You.
H A P P Y N E W Y E A R !
A few reminders your mothers have probably nagged you about for years, that I thought I'd repeat...
* Start small... think big.
* Don't underestimate the importance of a little R&R (rest and recreation).
* Before you reach for that packet of chips, block of chocolate, serving of ice cream or piece of cake - ask yourself why?
If it's because you're upset or bored: close the fridge and open your mind - in finding other ways of postponing your problems or passing the time.
* Laughter IS the best medicine. Laughing activates your immune system which helps fight infection.
* Do yourself a favour and have breakfast EVERYDAY.
It helps boost your metabolism.
* If at first you don't succeed try again. The only real mistakes are the ones you don't learn from!
Last but not least, I leave you with a quote I came across in Readers Digest (a magazine, I believe is crammed with pagely servings of food for the soul):
"Do I make the world better today somehow, or do I not bother?"
- Tom Hanks
Best wishes, everyone for the coming year. Make the next 365 days count!
Love Noeline
xox
A few reminders your mothers have probably nagged you about for years, that I thought I'd repeat...
* Start small... think big.
* Don't underestimate the importance of a little R&R (rest and recreation).
* Before you reach for that packet of chips, block of chocolate, serving of ice cream or piece of cake - ask yourself why?
If it's because you're upset or bored: close the fridge and open your mind - in finding other ways of postponing your problems or passing the time.
* Laughter IS the best medicine. Laughing activates your immune system which helps fight infection.
* Do yourself a favour and have breakfast EVERYDAY.
It helps boost your metabolism.
* If at first you don't succeed try again. The only real mistakes are the ones you don't learn from!
Last but not least, I leave you with a quote I came across in Readers Digest (a magazine, I believe is crammed with pagely servings of food for the soul):
"Do I make the world better today somehow, or do I not bother?"
- Tom Hanks
Best wishes, everyone for the coming year. Make the next 365 days count!
Love Noeline
xox
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