School has kissed goodbye the asses of 2005's year 10 group. We've graduated.
Four years of memories: it saw the tragic end of primary school friendships we thought would last forever, the nervous beginnings of new relationships, compulsory use of school bags that were larger than life itself, dumped with what seemed a plethoral workload, and as we scanned through old camp photos - came to a frightening realisation that we were an oddly clad bunch back then (although at the time we thought we were THE SHIT). Who remembers the year 8 camp where I wore some number tee partnered with a red bandana? (GAG!) Like wat the hell, seriously, who in their right mind would wear something like that?
It's the unforgetably unrelivable moments that I will miss dearly. The detentions we may still think we didn't deserve. The times we'd go into a tying-up-our-hair-frenzy because a teacher was coming. The retarted circles that formed our seating positions every recess and lunch. The canteen food. That melodious bell. Going to sick bay so you could get out of a pointless reading lesson, a cranky teacher, a test u didn't study for or delivering a speech you didn't practice.
To the friends who've been and gone, thankyou for being in my life at that particular period of time. Although not all friendships last forever, perhaps there's a reason why God put us together. To share that one laugh, that one weekend, that one conversation, that one realisation, that one lesson. Maybe it was a little more than just once, and just under a thousand times; our late night rants on the phone may have been reduced to a casual hi and bye - but you're all the product of who I am today.
From arriving at school at the same time, meeting at the same place, and greeting the same familiar faces - we're bidding a sad goodbye to a few, and see you later to others.
Maybe we'll return next year changed. Will we keep the same friends? I wonder. For now, let us enjoy the holidays. Sleep in. Go out. Spoil yourself. This may be the last time we can go about our days without worrying about any assignments or exams. After that it's meeting the due dates of senior school, followed by those of you're university/college lecturer, and finally the annoying demands of your egotistical boss.
Happy holidays everyone!
Monday, 28 November 2005
Monday, 21 November 2005
Dear Mum
Dear Mum,
You'll never guess where I'm writing from.
I'm sorry. Please don't be angry with me. I admit I was wrong, I just wish you were here to hear me say it.
It was an accident, something I truly regret. Do you forgive me? I know I should have let you know before it happened, but I do love you. Do you still love me?
Do you remember when I was six years old? It was scorching hot outside and you were gardening. You enjoyed gardening. You said you loved watching the Purple Dendrobium Orchid Flowers grow; they were your second favourite. But most of all you said that you loved watching me grow; and that one day I too would grow to be tall and beautiful.
I was playing with my water gun. You were sweating from the heat and looked tired. I thought it would be funny if I sprayed a bit of water on you as a practical joke. With little thought my little fingers pulled against the plastic trigger.
I still remember the look on your face. Your icy blue green eyes were suddenly filled with a rage I had never seen before. I was frozen with terror. My heart skipped a beat, butterflies flooded my stomach, and as my mouth fell open I let out a gasp.
Back then my world was tiny. Having to go to 'the corner' was one of the harshest punishments imaginable. There I would think about what I did wrong, but here in this cold and clammy room it aches to think. At least there I was safe, safe from the rest of world. This Earth really is a scary place.
I wish I could go back, and remain six years old forever.
I turned to run inside, fearful of hearing you shout at me; possibly even smack me. They used to hurt, but not as much as the pain I experience writing this letter to you.
I was hit with a tidal wave of puzzlement when a surge of water splattered across the back of my dress. 'Had I run into a puddle?' I thought.
You wet me with the hose as an act of revenge and was laughing hysterically. I had never seen you so overjoyed. I still remember that water fight as if it was only yesterday.
Now at twenty years of age, I wish I had stuck to just water guns. The assembly of fluorescent coloured fragments brimful with water are harmless, they don't cost lives. Metal tubing and bullets are deadly, of course, I would know.
I wasn't the greatest daughter in the world. Now I realise I didn't deserve a mother like you. I rebelled against you, I'm sorry. I was profoundly selfish. Why it takes something like this for me to change I don't know.
I guess after dad had gone, I turned to the wrong friends for comfort. The sort of 'friends' who convinced me into believing partying, crime, getting high and smoking would help keep my mind away from my problems - instead they only created more.
Of course, I wasn't always like that. You and I used to be close; we would talk about everything till the cows came home. I miss those moments. I would bring home good grades; I wanted to be a doctor, and you believed in me.
A few weeks ago we were arguing. I arrived home at six in the morning with a massive hangover. I stumbled through the door - hair messed, eyes red and on the brink of conciousness; you were sitting down in the living room reading a magazine with the phone close at hand. Before I had time to lie and blurt out a new lame explanation to excuse me for coming home so late, you slammed the magazine down, and I could see tears forming in your eyes.
You started yelling at me. You said that you didn't know the person who I had become; come to think of it, till now, neither do I. You told me I was throwing my life away, that I was better than this, that it wasn't too late to start fresh. Apparently it was best if we moved to another state, new house, new school, new everything.
'But what about me?'. Everything was about me. I was where I belonged, or so I thought.
We argued for ages. For the first time you hit me across the face. I was angry. I don't know what I was thinking, I didn't do it. It was the alcohol, or maybe the drugs.
I retrieved the gun from my pocket and shot you. Everything else from there is a blur. I wanted to wake up and realise it was all a dream.
'Guilty' said the judge in a cold tone. Now here I am in gaol writing you this letter. Maybe this is where I belong.
A creative writing task I did last year. Hope you enjoyed.
You'll never guess where I'm writing from.
I'm sorry. Please don't be angry with me. I admit I was wrong, I just wish you were here to hear me say it.
It was an accident, something I truly regret. Do you forgive me? I know I should have let you know before it happened, but I do love you. Do you still love me?
Do you remember when I was six years old? It was scorching hot outside and you were gardening. You enjoyed gardening. You said you loved watching the Purple Dendrobium Orchid Flowers grow; they were your second favourite. But most of all you said that you loved watching me grow; and that one day I too would grow to be tall and beautiful.
I was playing with my water gun. You were sweating from the heat and looked tired. I thought it would be funny if I sprayed a bit of water on you as a practical joke. With little thought my little fingers pulled against the plastic trigger.
I still remember the look on your face. Your icy blue green eyes were suddenly filled with a rage I had never seen before. I was frozen with terror. My heart skipped a beat, butterflies flooded my stomach, and as my mouth fell open I let out a gasp.
Back then my world was tiny. Having to go to 'the corner' was one of the harshest punishments imaginable. There I would think about what I did wrong, but here in this cold and clammy room it aches to think. At least there I was safe, safe from the rest of world. This Earth really is a scary place.
I wish I could go back, and remain six years old forever.
I turned to run inside, fearful of hearing you shout at me; possibly even smack me. They used to hurt, but not as much as the pain I experience writing this letter to you.
I was hit with a tidal wave of puzzlement when a surge of water splattered across the back of my dress. 'Had I run into a puddle?' I thought.
You wet me with the hose as an act of revenge and was laughing hysterically. I had never seen you so overjoyed. I still remember that water fight as if it was only yesterday.
Now at twenty years of age, I wish I had stuck to just water guns. The assembly of fluorescent coloured fragments brimful with water are harmless, they don't cost lives. Metal tubing and bullets are deadly, of course, I would know.
I wasn't the greatest daughter in the world. Now I realise I didn't deserve a mother like you. I rebelled against you, I'm sorry. I was profoundly selfish. Why it takes something like this for me to change I don't know.
I guess after dad had gone, I turned to the wrong friends for comfort. The sort of 'friends' who convinced me into believing partying, crime, getting high and smoking would help keep my mind away from my problems - instead they only created more.
Of course, I wasn't always like that. You and I used to be close; we would talk about everything till the cows came home. I miss those moments. I would bring home good grades; I wanted to be a doctor, and you believed in me.
A few weeks ago we were arguing. I arrived home at six in the morning with a massive hangover. I stumbled through the door - hair messed, eyes red and on the brink of conciousness; you were sitting down in the living room reading a magazine with the phone close at hand. Before I had time to lie and blurt out a new lame explanation to excuse me for coming home so late, you slammed the magazine down, and I could see tears forming in your eyes.
You started yelling at me. You said that you didn't know the person who I had become; come to think of it, till now, neither do I. You told me I was throwing my life away, that I was better than this, that it wasn't too late to start fresh. Apparently it was best if we moved to another state, new house, new school, new everything.
'But what about me?'. Everything was about me. I was where I belonged, or so I thought.
We argued for ages. For the first time you hit me across the face. I was angry. I don't know what I was thinking, I didn't do it. It was the alcohol, or maybe the drugs.
I retrieved the gun from my pocket and shot you. Everything else from there is a blur. I wanted to wake up and realise it was all a dream.
'Guilty' said the judge in a cold tone. Now here I am in gaol writing you this letter. Maybe this is where I belong.
A creative writing task I did last year. Hope you enjoyed.
Tuesdays with Morrie
Quotes from my favourite book
Tuesdays with Morrie - Mitch Albom
"AN OLD MAN, A YOUNG MAN, & LIFE'S GREATEST LESSON"
"Love wins. Love always wins."
"So many people walk around with a meaningless life. They seem half-asleep, even when they're doing things they think are important. This is because they're chasing the wrong things. The way you get meaning into your lifeis to devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning."
"Let go, let the tears flow, feel it completely - but eventually be able to say, 'All right that was my moment with loneliness. I'm not afraid of feeling lonely, but now I'm going to put that loneliness aside and know that there are other emotions in the world, and I'm going to experience them as well' "
"Do you know how they brainwash people? They repeat something over and over. Owning things is good. More money is good. More property is good. More commercialism is good. More is good. More is good. We repeat it - and have it repeated to us - over and over until nobody bothers to think otherwise. The average person is so fogged up by all this, he has no perspective on what's really important anymore... These were people so hungry for love that they were accepting substitutes... but it never works. You can't substitute material things for love or for gentleness or for tenderness or for a sense of comradeship."
"People haven't found meaning in their lives, so they're running all the time looking for it. They think the next car, the next house, the next job. They find those things are empty too, and they keep running."
"If you're trying to show off for people at the top, forget it. They will look down at you anyhow. And if you're trying to show off to people at the bottom, forget it. They will only envy you. Status will get you nowhere. Only an open heart will allow you to equally float between everyone."
Tuesdays with Morrie - Mitch Albom
"AN OLD MAN, A YOUNG MAN, & LIFE'S GREATEST LESSON"
"Love wins. Love always wins."
"So many people walk around with a meaningless life. They seem half-asleep, even when they're doing things they think are important. This is because they're chasing the wrong things. The way you get meaning into your lifeis to devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning."
"Let go, let the tears flow, feel it completely - but eventually be able to say, 'All right that was my moment with loneliness. I'm not afraid of feeling lonely, but now I'm going to put that loneliness aside and know that there are other emotions in the world, and I'm going to experience them as well' "
"Do you know how they brainwash people? They repeat something over and over. Owning things is good. More money is good. More property is good. More commercialism is good. More is good. More is good. We repeat it - and have it repeated to us - over and over until nobody bothers to think otherwise. The average person is so fogged up by all this, he has no perspective on what's really important anymore... These were people so hungry for love that they were accepting substitutes... but it never works. You can't substitute material things for love or for gentleness or for tenderness or for a sense of comradeship."
"People haven't found meaning in their lives, so they're running all the time looking for it. They think the next car, the next house, the next job. They find those things are empty too, and they keep running."
"If you're trying to show off for people at the top, forget it. They will look down at you anyhow. And if you're trying to show off to people at the bottom, forget it. They will only envy you. Status will get you nowhere. Only an open heart will allow you to equally float between everyone."
Tuesday, 15 November 2005
All the leaves are brown
All the leaves are brown, and the sky is grey. It's currently pissing down rain. Ironically enough, it may be because there aint no sunshine when she's gone.
Sucks balls that the smallest things relate back to the last person you want to be thinking about.
What if - this
What if - that
Definitely - over
Maybe - later
Sucks balls that the smallest things relate back to the last person you want to be thinking about.
What if - this
What if - that
Definitely - over
Maybe - later
Wednesday, 26 October 2005
That's Life
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!
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!
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)