For someone who thinks a lot - I didn't think I'd come to this. Not now, at least. It seems as though the anarchy of thoughts messing with my head have died down. I became accustomed to writing about the calamities of my life, tearing at my mind that I don't know where to start in recounting the good that have occurred. So, what can I say? Life's great. The aspects of friends, family, school and me are close to balanced.
School Certificate is just around the corner. Surprisingly, I'm not all that fussed about it. After all, it's not going to determine the rest of my life. I see it more as an indication as to how I'm doing; whether I should keep up the good work or lift my game a little.
Family. It's an iffy subject for me. I haven't heard from my Dad in ages; you get used to that. I love my mum. When I grow up, I want to be like her. Unlike other parents, she isn't the overpowering type. Her judgements aren't made from tha basis of:"Because I said so". She'll step down from the parenting platform and consider seeing things through my eyes. She understands me. She laughs at the stupidest things, so now we all know where I get that from. I have her hands.
Oh how I adore the friends, my true loves! I've learnt a lesson that most people don't discover till after they've graduated: It doesn't matter how popular you are...
Can you honestly say that all three hundred-or-so of those affiliations know, at the very least, your favourite colour?
Can you confidently appoint any one of them at random to organise your wedding - catering to perfection your taste?
Can you sincerely depend on all those people to provide an accurate, touching and emotional speech at your funeral?
Most likely, the answer is no.
Not everyone that you consider a friend will know your favourite colour. It's a minority that can back up their argument in saying you prefer hot pink to baby pink, and that your room is an overstatement to colour favouritism.
A staggering 99% of people you consider a friend are not qualified enough to organise something as important as your wedding. They don't know if you're spontaneous enough to be up for a bare-naked wedding, or a person of simplicity to want a small wedding in a pretty little garden. They have no idea of what your taste in flowers is like, and you arrive to find a woodland inspired wed-lock ceremony.
Even less people would be able to deliver a captivating speech at your funeral. Oh yeah, I met her at a party. She seemed nice. She looked hot... what was her name again?
To your friends you're not just nice – you're one of the most amazing people they've ever met.
To your friends you're not just hot. They know of your insecurities: that you're self conscious about your big thighs and remember the time you tried making yourself throw up, and through it all…still think that you're beautiful.
Only your friends have an endless supply of anecdotes. That time you ran into a glass door. The times when the argument you're both engaged in loses seriousness because you start to sound like Cartmen from Southpark when you raise your voice. That time the both of you took over two hundred photos in one day, and cried when the camera broke a few weeks later.
In the end, it doesn't matter how many people recognise you when you're at a dance party or walking down the street. All you need to survive is a few people in your life that know you inside and out, can make you smile when you're on the verge of tears, speak for you as if you said the words yourself, and listen to the story you've told a thousand times without complaining.
Friends OVER boyfriends and UNDERstand that should anything happen between you and your man, it's the friends who were be there before, and will still be there after, all the tragedy. They saw you playing the role of Miss Independent - making the single life look good, watched you lose yourself like Eminem with someone you thought was different and put up with your crying when it was over. It's the life cycle of teenage drama. The worst thing you can do is push them away when a boy comes along, and pry them back when the boy walks away. Boyfriends come and go, but best friends are forever!
Wednesday, 26 October 2005
Monday, 17 October 2005
Life's little mysteries
In that song, she'll be coming around the mountain, who is she?
If Dracula has no reflection, how comes he always had such a straight parting in his hair?
Why does the Easter bunny carry eggs? Rabbits don't lay eggs.
Why did Mary own a little lamb?
How do "do not walk on grass" signs get there?
Can a person with no ears wear glasses?
When people say, "I'm so tired it's not even funny" or "my head hurts so much it's not even funny", why would it even be funny in the first place?
Aren't the 'good things that come to those who wait' just the leftovers from the people that got there first?
Can you breathe out of your nose and mouth at the same time?
"Have you ever noticed that if you rearranged the letters in mother in law, they come out to Woman Hitler?"
If heat rises, then shouldn't hell be cold?
Why do they call the small candy bars the "fun sizes"? Wouldn't be more fun to eat a big one?
If the day before a holiday is called Christmas Eve, is the day after Christmas Adam?
When you see the weather report and it says "partly cloudy" and then the next day it says "partly sunny"; what's the difference?
Can a person choke and die on a life saver?
Why do birds bob their heads when they walk?
Why do people pay to go up tall buildings and then put money in binoculars to look at things on the ground?
How come stealing from one book is plagiarism, but stealing from many is research?
What are those little things on the end of your shoelaces called?
Have you ever thought what life would be like if your name was Anonymous? You'd get credit for everything nobody wanted credit for?
Why does caregiver and caretaker mean the same thing?
If an ambulance is on its way to save someone, and it runs someone over, does it stop to help them?
Why do toasters always have a setting that burns the toast to a horrible crisp which no decent human being would eat?
Why are boxing rings square?
Can good looking Eskimo girls be called hot?
Why do they call them "apartments" when they are all stuck together?
Why is the alphabet in that order? Is it because of that song?
Why is the word "abbreviate" so long?
Can fat people go skinny-dipping?
If love is blind, how can we believe in love at first sight?
What's the opposite of opposite?
If a robber tried to rob a dance club and yelled, "Everybody get down", would all the people start dancing?
Where in the nursery rhyme does it say humpty dumpty is an egg?
If quizzes are quizzical then what are tests?
If a Man is talking in the forest and there is no woman there to hear him, is he still wrong?
Is there a Dr. Salt?
If Dracula has no reflection, how comes he always had such a straight parting in his hair?
Why does the Easter bunny carry eggs? Rabbits don't lay eggs.
Why did Mary own a little lamb?
How do "do not walk on grass" signs get there?
Can a person with no ears wear glasses?
When people say, "I'm so tired it's not even funny" or "my head hurts so much it's not even funny", why would it even be funny in the first place?
Aren't the 'good things that come to those who wait' just the leftovers from the people that got there first?
Can you breathe out of your nose and mouth at the same time?
"Have you ever noticed that if you rearranged the letters in mother in law, they come out to Woman Hitler?"
If heat rises, then shouldn't hell be cold?
Why do they call the small candy bars the "fun sizes"? Wouldn't be more fun to eat a big one?
If the day before a holiday is called Christmas Eve, is the day after Christmas Adam?
When you see the weather report and it says "partly cloudy" and then the next day it says "partly sunny"; what's the difference?
Can a person choke and die on a life saver?
Why do birds bob their heads when they walk?
Why do people pay to go up tall buildings and then put money in binoculars to look at things on the ground?
How come stealing from one book is plagiarism, but stealing from many is research?
What are those little things on the end of your shoelaces called?
Have you ever thought what life would be like if your name was Anonymous? You'd get credit for everything nobody wanted credit for?
Why does caregiver and caretaker mean the same thing?
If an ambulance is on its way to save someone, and it runs someone over, does it stop to help them?
Why do toasters always have a setting that burns the toast to a horrible crisp which no decent human being would eat?
Why are boxing rings square?
Can good looking Eskimo girls be called hot?
Why do they call them "apartments" when they are all stuck together?
Why is the alphabet in that order? Is it because of that song?
Why is the word "abbreviate" so long?
Can fat people go skinny-dipping?
If love is blind, how can we believe in love at first sight?
What's the opposite of opposite?
If a robber tried to rob a dance club and yelled, "Everybody get down", would all the people start dancing?
Where in the nursery rhyme does it say humpty dumpty is an egg?
If quizzes are quizzical then what are tests?
If a Man is talking in the forest and there is no woman there to hear him, is he still wrong?
Is there a Dr. Salt?
Saturday, 1 October 2005
Birthday Bondi Beach Bash
Memorable moments of Friday 30th September 05: BONDI BEACH
* Vii and I being nigeled at our corresponding train stations because of our friends who took yonkers, providing some sort of comfort on the phone with each other and complaining about waiting. Realising that hardly anyone was coming.
* Robert, Andel & Christy kicking the ball on the railway tracks, and as a consequence missing our train.
* My mood swings. The outbursts. The unstoppable l a u g h i n g . The unbearable screaming.
* The guy on the train who had a bag that looked like a vacum cleaner. Wot tha?
* Arriving at Bondi to realise Vii and I weren't such losers after all. Hello people! We've become such an anti RSVP generation.
* Being given taxed chocolate and not knowing how to react. It was taxed.. but it was chocolate!
* The photo sessions.
* Being thrown into the water by Jeremy and CJ. The event resembled a satanic ritual. I was the wild and screaming borehog that the barbarians - Jeremy and CJ were about to sacrifice.
* Vii and I experiencing the most difficulty in withstanding the waves because we were that short.
* The accidental booby flashes.. AHAHAHA! hello!
* Jeremy throwing me into the water.. again!
* Theresa and I throwing the football like a netball because we didn't know how to pass it. "Whoever drops the ball first is a loser" .. so what do I do? I drop the ball. I didn't like the game anymore.
* Robert and I making sandcastles.. or 'piles of sand'.. for a while we had a next door neighbour.
* Being beyond gullible. Falling for everything Chysley said, like burying Andrew's shoes in the sand leaving him barefoot; among many others.
* Andrew taking luvo photos of himself and making it everyone's mobile phone wallpaper.
* Danica and I unable to bear with the reggae music. "Looking in her big brown eyes!"
* The bus ride home with Frances and having tiredness dawn over me.
* Being thankful for such a beautiful day and being one less victim of suburn.
* Vii and I being nigeled at our corresponding train stations because of our friends who took yonkers, providing some sort of comfort on the phone with each other and complaining about waiting. Realising that hardly anyone was coming.
* Robert, Andel & Christy kicking the ball on the railway tracks, and as a consequence missing our train.
* My mood swings. The outbursts. The unstoppable l a u g h i n g . The unbearable screaming.
* The guy on the train who had a bag that looked like a vacum cleaner. Wot tha?
* Arriving at Bondi to realise Vii and I weren't such losers after all. Hello people! We've become such an anti RSVP generation.
* Being given taxed chocolate and not knowing how to react. It was taxed.. but it was chocolate!
* The photo sessions.
* Being thrown into the water by Jeremy and CJ. The event resembled a satanic ritual. I was the wild and screaming borehog that the barbarians - Jeremy and CJ were about to sacrifice.
* Vii and I experiencing the most difficulty in withstanding the waves because we were that short.
* The accidental booby flashes.. AHAHAHA! hello!
* Jeremy throwing me into the water.. again!
* Theresa and I throwing the football like a netball because we didn't know how to pass it. "Whoever drops the ball first is a loser" .. so what do I do? I drop the ball. I didn't like the game anymore.
* Robert and I making sandcastles.. or 'piles of sand'.. for a while we had a next door neighbour.
* Being beyond gullible. Falling for everything Chysley said, like burying Andrew's shoes in the sand leaving him barefoot; among many others.
* Andrew taking luvo photos of himself and making it everyone's mobile phone wallpaper.
* Danica and I unable to bear with the reggae music. "Looking in her big brown eyes!"
* The bus ride home with Frances and having tiredness dawn over me.
* Being thankful for such a beautiful day and being one less victim of suburn.
Monday, 26 September 2005
Friends are the family you're allowed to pick
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.
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.
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)
Wednesday, 24 August 2005
It's the simple things in life we forget
I've decided to lay off blogging for a while until assignments have been submitted, oral rpesentations have been delivered and the trials have passed.
I was lying in bed at 1am in the morning, unable to get to sleep and being the weird compulsive thinker that I am, started reflecting about that feeling. You know, that feeling. I couldn't think of a term that quite described that; and the words queezy, umph, and errrgh didn't even come close. In fact, they're not real words at all. Magical yet exquisitely simple is the best my mind can describe it. They're the simple things in life we forget.
I'll write about them later on; but until my next entry, I'll leave you guys to do the contemplating.
that feeling...
* stacking it... hard
* breaking up
* knowing you can never have the guy/girl you secretly want
* getting out of the shower and it's freezing cold
* having rain drench your just blowdried or straightened hair
* regrets
* stuck in an awkwardly boring conversation, but don't have the guts to get going because you feel rude
* people who push in front of you
* coming to terms with how undeniably wrong you are after being so sure of youself
* being lost
* a stain on your white shirt at the beginning of the day
* annoying jingles that get stuck in your head
* not being able to fall asleep
* finding the tissue box empty just when you need one most
* your pen running out in the middle of an exam
* Mondays
* when you've eaten too much
* bad hair days
* being alone in the dark
* finding out someone bitched about you behind your back, but nice to your face
* seeing tragedies unfold on the TV screen and feeling so helpless
* forgetting what you were just about to say
* wishing you were five years old again, a bandaid had the power to fix anything
* knowing that things will NEVER be the same between you and her/him
that feeling...
* a new relationship
* knowing he likes you, and you like him - but are too afraid to admit it
* knowing all the words to a song - accurately
* a new outfit
* a NICE, new haircut
* new shoes
* hearing your favourite song on the radio
* getting off the phone with someone and wishing you could talk forever
* the smile of a stranger
* finding money on the floor
* a DAMN GOOD bra
* fitting into a size 6 when you're usually a size 8, or size 10 when you're usually a 12, etc..
* free stuff... you love it !
* a clearance sale (there's a little bit of cheap-ass in all of us ! )
* a cool breeze on a hot summers day
* a pretty sunset
* that butterfly feeling when you're in the arms of someone special
* compliments
* the sound autumn leaves make when you trod on them
* a good laugh
* using a BIG word in a sentence and sounding smart
* when people ask for YOUR advice
* solving that stupid maths question you've spent an hour trying to solve
* a good book
* when the 'popular person' knows your name (admit it ! )
* acing a test you barely studied for
* when you arrive at the bus stop seconds before it arrives, or arriving at the platform seconds before the train arrives
* looking back at old photos and wondering " WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING ?! "
I was lying in bed at 1am in the morning, unable to get to sleep and being the weird compulsive thinker that I am, started reflecting about that feeling. You know, that feeling. I couldn't think of a term that quite described that; and the words queezy, umph, and errrgh didn't even come close. In fact, they're not real words at all. Magical yet exquisitely simple is the best my mind can describe it. They're the simple things in life we forget.
I'll write about them later on; but until my next entry, I'll leave you guys to do the contemplating.
that feeling...
* stacking it... hard
* breaking up
* knowing you can never have the guy/girl you secretly want
* getting out of the shower and it's freezing cold
* having rain drench your just blowdried or straightened hair
* regrets
* stuck in an awkwardly boring conversation, but don't have the guts to get going because you feel rude
* people who push in front of you
* coming to terms with how undeniably wrong you are after being so sure of youself
* being lost
* a stain on your white shirt at the beginning of the day
* annoying jingles that get stuck in your head
* not being able to fall asleep
* finding the tissue box empty just when you need one most
* your pen running out in the middle of an exam
* Mondays
* when you've eaten too much
* bad hair days
* being alone in the dark
* finding out someone bitched about you behind your back, but nice to your face
* seeing tragedies unfold on the TV screen and feeling so helpless
* forgetting what you were just about to say
* wishing you were five years old again, a bandaid had the power to fix anything
* knowing that things will NEVER be the same between you and her/him
that feeling...
* a new relationship
* knowing he likes you, and you like him - but are too afraid to admit it
* knowing all the words to a song - accurately
* a new outfit
* a NICE, new haircut
* new shoes
* hearing your favourite song on the radio
* getting off the phone with someone and wishing you could talk forever
* the smile of a stranger
* finding money on the floor
* a DAMN GOOD bra
* fitting into a size 6 when you're usually a size 8, or size 10 when you're usually a 12, etc..
* free stuff... you love it !
* a clearance sale (there's a little bit of cheap-ass in all of us ! )
* a cool breeze on a hot summers day
* a pretty sunset
* that butterfly feeling when you're in the arms of someone special
* compliments
* the sound autumn leaves make when you trod on them
* a good laugh
* using a BIG word in a sentence and sounding smart
* when people ask for YOUR advice
* solving that stupid maths question you've spent an hour trying to solve
* a good book
* when the 'popular person' knows your name (admit it ! )
* acing a test you barely studied for
* when you arrive at the bus stop seconds before it arrives, or arriving at the platform seconds before the train arrives
* looking back at old photos and wondering " WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING ?! "
Thursday, 18 August 2005
Looks VS Personality
Yin & Yang. You can't experience the good without knowing what they bad feels like. Without pain we would fail to completely comprehend the bliss of being glad; purely because we've got nothing to compare it against. If shades of 'happy' were the only the way our emotions functioned we wouldn't be as grateful.
It's like saying that everything will be okay when two hijacked planes collided into the twin towers. That everyone will come out safe and sound and tomorrow will carry on as usual. But it's not. The suffering of those unfortunate victims brought the public together. The act of salvaging the hurt under vast amounts of rubble required the will of those who were fortunate enough not to be inside those buildings or passengers of that plane. Why it takes such a tragedy to bring the rest of the world closer together, I don't know. I guess it's one of the first questions I'll ask God when I get there. But for the time being there's no use pondering the answer to a question that doesn't exist on earth. In my opinion, maybe the events of September 11 has taught the rest of the world to get our act together. Not to wait for a catastrophe before we lend a helping hand to a stranger. It's a shame that hundreds have to die before we listen.
I don't ignore the bad in the world. But that shouldn't be an excuse to exclude the good either. A handful of people may disagree with some, or perhaps everything I write in my blogs. But that goes without saying I'm not trying to please every reader either. It's the people who compliment my writing and beg for more that keep me bothered to write. I write for them. I'm not trying to brainwash anyone into believing the world is a squeaky clean haven or if you think like me you'll be a better person.
I'm not aiming at being unrealistic, but we can all dream can't we? Dream that there is a good looking someone out there with a bonus personality. Realistically speaking, some people marry for looks, some people marry for money, some people marry for the happiness of marrying a good looking rich person. Realistically speaking, looks and money only go so far. Realistically speaking, personality only goes so far as well.
Looks. If that's all it takes to make you happy, then go ahead, marry the guy! We'd rather you be happy with the good looking guy than miserable with the good hearted guy. And that's reality.
But I tend to write for one audience in particular. The people who go for someone with persona. Someone who'll argue back, someone who'll ask questions, someone who captivates us through with their insights alone.
You're only blessed with looks. In saying so I don't include plastic surgery. We don't have the luxury of opting to be good, average or bad looking when we're born. But to an extent, everyone has the personal willpower to eliminate bad attitudes and enhance the good.
No doubt, looks capture attention, but only a nice personality wins the heart and mind. You can't purchase finest quality packet's of 'personality' over the counter and apply combinations of traits on your face like make up every morning. A layer of humour to conceal any bad qualities lurking inside and some friendliness over the cheeks, topped off with some gloss finished morals for added shine. If only it was that easy. The soul is something worked upon, over years of living and experiences, overcoming them and using those mistakes to your advantage.
Nothing lasts forever. Everything fades with time. Looks more so than personality, but yes, they both deteriorate. But we're only around for a certain amount of time so we might as well make the most of it. Just like looks, everyone's personality is different. If looks are enough to keep you occupied in your lifetime, do yourself a favour and go for that sleek, well groomed stylish hunka-man . If personality is enough to keep you enthralled until you pass then go for the spiderman geek who no matter how hard you try can't seem to resist.
Ultimately, we're ALL just seeking satisfaction, and satisfaction comes in a multitude of shapes, sizes and colours. There's no exact definition and satisfaction varies with the person.
As I say: "Whatever crumbles YOUR cookie; because in the end YOU'RE the one who's going to end up eating it" Finely Ground or Super Chunky?
It's like saying that everything will be okay when two hijacked planes collided into the twin towers. That everyone will come out safe and sound and tomorrow will carry on as usual. But it's not. The suffering of those unfortunate victims brought the public together. The act of salvaging the hurt under vast amounts of rubble required the will of those who were fortunate enough not to be inside those buildings or passengers of that plane. Why it takes such a tragedy to bring the rest of the world closer together, I don't know. I guess it's one of the first questions I'll ask God when I get there. But for the time being there's no use pondering the answer to a question that doesn't exist on earth. In my opinion, maybe the events of September 11 has taught the rest of the world to get our act together. Not to wait for a catastrophe before we lend a helping hand to a stranger. It's a shame that hundreds have to die before we listen.
I don't ignore the bad in the world. But that shouldn't be an excuse to exclude the good either. A handful of people may disagree with some, or perhaps everything I write in my blogs. But that goes without saying I'm not trying to please every reader either. It's the people who compliment my writing and beg for more that keep me bothered to write. I write for them. I'm not trying to brainwash anyone into believing the world is a squeaky clean haven or if you think like me you'll be a better person.
I'm not aiming at being unrealistic, but we can all dream can't we? Dream that there is a good looking someone out there with a bonus personality. Realistically speaking, some people marry for looks, some people marry for money, some people marry for the happiness of marrying a good looking rich person. Realistically speaking, looks and money only go so far. Realistically speaking, personality only goes so far as well.
Looks. If that's all it takes to make you happy, then go ahead, marry the guy! We'd rather you be happy with the good looking guy than miserable with the good hearted guy. And that's reality.
But I tend to write for one audience in particular. The people who go for someone with persona. Someone who'll argue back, someone who'll ask questions, someone who captivates us through with their insights alone.
You're only blessed with looks. In saying so I don't include plastic surgery. We don't have the luxury of opting to be good, average or bad looking when we're born. But to an extent, everyone has the personal willpower to eliminate bad attitudes and enhance the good.
No doubt, looks capture attention, but only a nice personality wins the heart and mind. You can't purchase finest quality packet's of 'personality' over the counter and apply combinations of traits on your face like make up every morning. A layer of humour to conceal any bad qualities lurking inside and some friendliness over the cheeks, topped off with some gloss finished morals for added shine. If only it was that easy. The soul is something worked upon, over years of living and experiences, overcoming them and using those mistakes to your advantage.
Nothing lasts forever. Everything fades with time. Looks more so than personality, but yes, they both deteriorate. But we're only around for a certain amount of time so we might as well make the most of it. Just like looks, everyone's personality is different. If looks are enough to keep you occupied in your lifetime, do yourself a favour and go for that sleek, well groomed stylish hunka-man . If personality is enough to keep you enthralled until you pass then go for the spiderman geek who no matter how hard you try can't seem to resist.
Ultimately, we're ALL just seeking satisfaction, and satisfaction comes in a multitude of shapes, sizes and colours. There's no exact definition and satisfaction varies with the person.
As I say: "Whatever crumbles YOUR cookie; because in the end YOU'RE the one who's going to end up eating it" Finely Ground or Super Chunky?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)