Just because

Have you ever seen a Miss-Drop-Dead-Gorgeous on a date with Mr-Ugly-With-Bad-Fashion-Sense and said to yourself "Why him?".

Have you ever seen your ex-boyfriend looking happy with his new girlfriend and for personal reasons asked yourself "Why her?".

… And suddenly we're that annoying little kid that questions everything.

I've noticed that most people will automatically search for the answer in all the wrong places: in the new girlfriend. We let the assumption that she's prettier, skinnier, bustier, funnier and smarter than us get to our head to the point that we undervalue ourselves.

So that my friends is my version of how Miss-Drop-Dead-Gorgeous wound up with Mr-Ugly-With-Bad-Fashion-Sense.

My boyfriend asked me whether I'd get offended if an ex looked at us and asked "Why her?" (insinuating that my boyfriend could do better than me). Surprisingly, my reply was 'No'; without myself knowing why - especially when most people would take something like this to heart.

Then, in one of those moments where a Miss Universe finalist gracefully answers an ordinary question from the top of her head (excluding "World Peace!" followed by an arresting smile) I expressed:

"Why me and not her? The answer would be you"

And that's when I realised that my answer lay not in my attributes compensating for her flaws - but in my boyfriend's change of heart.

Okay, so it's common sense that after breaking up with a liar and a cheater that you'd seek out someone honest and loyal. That much is true.

But their worth as a human being does not change. Because every partner will hurt you through some way or another - and ultimately the one you settle down with is someone who's worth the pain.

WARNING! This entry may contain coarse rudity

There's a fine line between having the resilience to find your true love and being just plain rude.

After a whirlwind relationship, Sally Strawberry and Peter Peaches decided to call it quits. Quits to the life, the kids, the house… pretty much everything they planned to share while living out their perfectly concocted image of coupledom in foreverdom.

Later, Sally Strawberry moved on and started seeing a new guy – Gareth Grape. Everything was going well until Peter Peaches decided he wanted Sally Strawberry back.

So, Peter Peaches would call Sally Strawberry every now and then. He would bring up how good things used to be, how happy they made each other, asked why things couldn't go back to the way they used to be and where they'd be had things been done differently - 'hypothetically speaking', of course.

And how could we forget? The all so casual inquiry about the new person on the scene. How's… that guy, by the way? Or: Hope everything works out with that chick… whatever her name is. When they very well know what his/her name is. Probably even his/her nationality, school, age and reputation by asking around.

Some of us may relate to Sally Strawberry, caught between the intentions of an unrelenting old lover, and the innocence of a possible new, if not greater love.

Maybe you're a Gareth Grape, to have your chances rudely disrupted by someone's emergency case of: "I just realised he/she's The One so if you could get lost that would be great".

Others may identify with Peter Peaches, who will do anything, I mean anything for love.

But at what point does Peter Peaches stop being a ruthless romantic who would do anything to win back a soulmate, to a down right rude jerk who won't give the likes of Gareth grape a fair go?

I believe that the battlefield of love is a lot like a parking lot. And since most of us reading this are on our L's, even on our P's – the concept shouldn't be too difficult to understand. I don't care if you've parked here for a minute before me. I don't care if you've parked here for a year. I don't care if your ancestors have parked here for three consecutive generations. You took off and lost your spot. Why should relationships be any different?

So what's suddenly given rise to these hooligans thinking they can walk in and out of a relationship as they please?

Maybe it's the sight of seeing them happy with someone else. Maybe it's the realisation that what used to be is actually meant to be. In any case, it all comes down to one thing. RUDITY.

Rude because you've shitted all over the clean slate your ex partner has started with someone new.

It parades a lack of respect towards the new comer – who struggles to form a stable relationship because you refuse to let another one close; with your suggestive comments, desperate pleas and shifty reminiscences.

It stamps the word selfish on your forehead. You wouldn't want it happening to you, so why do it to someone else?

In the name of true love: move mountains, walk a thousand miles and cross the oceans all you like… but by all means DO NOT interfere with an ex until the coast is clear.

BE FAIR, OR BE SQUARE!

I love Cameron Diaz, so I don't have a crush on Justin Timberlake. It's rude. I wouldn't like it if people had crushes on my boyfriend - Paris Hilton in Cosmopolitan (Feb 2007 issue)

My big fat greek Philia

Philia, means friendship in modern Greek, a dispassionate virtuous love, was a concept developed by Aristotle. It includes loyalty to friends, family, and community, and requires virtue, equality and familiarity.

They (including my art teacher) say that a boy and a girl can never be just friends. That since the pair get along so well, are bound for something more – a romantic connection down the road. I believe it's all a bunch of poppy-cock. Whoever said that was making friends with wrong members of the opposite sex.

I don't believe in Santa Claus, Fairies, Ghosts or Soulmates; but I do believe in the possibility of a heterosexual best friend relationship.

Men may come from Mars, and women may come from Venus – but here on Earth they can be seen walking down the street side by side – now how smashing's that eh?

A disadvantage is that you STILL cannot check out other guys. All you'll get is the usual "I don't know, I'm not gay!". Yet if there's a fat slob with snot running down his face, toddling with a more than visible ass crack will say: "Now there's one hell of an ugly mo'fucka!", without even being asked.

Now to the overweighing advantages. Drumroll please. You can ask all those simple and not no so simple questions about the male anatomy and receive a clear cut answer in return. For example:

> Is it true that the bass from a stereo can make your balls tingle?

> Do boys really get turned on by having his balls sucked

So on and so forth. Topics of which would cause a group of teenage girls into hysterics – you'd think they were betting on shares at Wall Street.

You also gain a boy eye perspective on things. They'll admit whether a girl is attractive, stuck-up or… beautiful. Like, how often do guys use that word – beautiful unless they're describing their mother's home made spaghetti? I speak on behalf on most girls out there that we regurgitate the word like no tomorrow. We meet some girl once and think she's beautiful. Another girl is beautiful because she thought we had a nice pair of killer heels. Don't even get me started on the word hot. Girls will call each other hot all the time to each others face and wn't even mean it half the time. It's like "Woops, I accidentally called her hot, I'll go bitch to my friends about her weird hair, her flat chest or her fat legs".

But the most important thing I've learnt from having a male best friend is this kind of love and concern that supersedes the romantic, sexual kind – it's somewhat purer and reassuring. The phrase 'I love you' is handled more responsibly then that in a girlfriend boyfriend relationship. In the times that they're said, are made without doubt, malice or regret. In the same way a couple will claim that they just know when they're in love, best friends will just know that it's nothing more, nothing less.

He won't treat you chivalrously, as good or bad as that may sound. To him you're one of the guys, and to you he's one of the girls. He'll grapple with you over something clenched in your hand until it hurts to fight back, will carry your bag if need be, but won't object to letting you carry his jacket while he walks around the auto show like a kid in the confectionery isle.

If a boyfriend told me never to speak with my best friend, along with other close guy friends, I'd tell him to find some mindless bitch who actually does everything her boyfriend would demand. Because if you date me, you date the whole caboodle – the family, the girlfriends and the best friend. There's no competition, the boyfriend and the boy friend are in a different race altogether.

Girl Power?

There are two defining moments in a girls life. The first time she admits she's finally made real friends, and the first time she admits to herself that some of them would rather spend time with their boyfriends over her.

In primary school our best friends were the girls you played handball and netball with, the girls you belted out songs by the Spice Girls with, while puppetting mini Cabbage Patch Dolls on a stage made out of lunchboxes. By graduation, have we lost the plot?

Whatever happened to the dream of the girls only road trip? It was traded in for the vision of endless nights of undisturbed quality time with the boyfriend.

We've become a society of dumpers. Dumped the family for the friends who are so much cooler. Dumped the friends for the boyfriend who calls you beautiful. Funny thing is, your friends have been calling you just that for years. Being cheated on by a boyfriend sounds like spilt milk compared to this kind of ultimate betrayal. It makes me not want to make a new friend again.

Don't get me wrong. I'm happy for the friends in love, the friends who've loved and the friends anticipating love. But personally, if love means that I'll subconsciously end up abandoning my family and friends – no thanks, maybe next lifetime.

I've never been one to make my boyfriend my best friend. So maybe I've risked my chances of ever finding a 'soulmate' but the comfort of friendship is so much more reassuring to me.

I'm safe when I'm in a relationship and know that if we broke up, I'd have someone to call in the middle of the night who'll listen to me through sobs about why it had to come to this.

Romeo and Juliet ain't got shit on Romy and Michelle.

My creative writing task for English Extension

Topic: Australian mateship, spirituality and identity.

Rantuk lies devastated on the dirt floor. A worm wriggles its way out of the sockets of a rotting bird only a few metres away. The land around her is still, where there used to be children frolicking only a few hours prior. Her piercing wails speak on one level too many. Not only did no one dare to intrude on her moment of agony, but even the wind dared not to blow too hard. For it was evident she was going through enough pain as is. She asks 'Why?' in her native tongue, but no one is there.



3,300 miles away, Bertha tells the kids to hurry up before their father 'loses it'. After all, church with the mumbly-jumbly priest - as her son Aroona would put it, begins in ten minutes.



- - -



I hate shoelaces. I think they're stupid. Mum won't let me wear my slip ons because we have to enter the house of God in our Sunday Best. More like Sunday Stupid if you ask me.



Dad beeps the horn. The bloody horn. That's when I know he's real cranky. But it aint my fault I'm only darn five years old. It's not my fault I can't feel as well as they can!



I can't wait to be a grown up. No one to boss me around. Bein' old should be easy-peasy-japanesey.



Inside the church the mumbly-jumbly priest jabs on. I dunno if he's using big words or just talking funny. It takes ages and my bum starts to hurt.



But I'll let you in on a secret. If ya listen real closely, and ignore them old people breathing loudly, or the one time I heard someone snoring – I like to listen to the birds outside. And the rustling of the trees in the wind.



But sometimes I listen a lil too closely. You see, I start hearing this voice. A woman. She sounds upset.



- - -



Come to me. To where you belong. Come outside.



- - -



Sometimes I tell her to go away. Other times I ask her what she's talking about. But then my big brother Aarron tells me to shut the flamin' hell up. Then mum tells him to shoosh.



- - -



Ssssson! Come to meee pleassssse. Pleasssse. Before it'sssss too late.



- - -



I thought about finding the snake. Maybe it was lost. Bugger it, I thought. It was just my imaginalem… imagilation. What was that word again?



In the morning the snake was gone. Thank God. But the bread for breakfast tasted stale and yukky. Dad sad to quit complaining because other kids like me have no bread to eat, that I'm luckier than them.



Mum told him to 'quit while he's ahead'. I dunno what she's going on about. First blasphemy and now this.



I wonder what dad meant by 'like other kids'. Maybe it's because they don't have shoes with shoelaces or a Sunday Best.



After breakfast I go outside and take my shoes off from the house when I reach the grass. I love the feel of the grass under my feet. It tickles!



Mum says it's dirty. Dirt schmirt. I dun' care.



I don't like the games Aarron plays. I think balls and paper aeroplanes are boring. He says I'm too stupid to understand flying.



I hear the voice again. I follow it. 'I'm coming!' I say. She probably needs help.



- - -



Son, you're almost home. Please come. Before it's too late.



- - -



Two nine year old boys approach Aroona.

'So you hold him down, while I do the work?' says one familiar voice.

'All's fair in rock-paper-scissors', says another.

'Hurry up, he's already walking away', says the first voice.



Aroona is thrown to the ground and feels a sharp pain in his back. There is rustling, not of trees but of struggle.



Die you stupid blind Abo! Die! Die! Die! Another voice laughs.



- - -

Aarron, is that you?



- - -



The two boys, Aarron and his friend hear the loud wailing of a woman. They look around. No one is there. Scared, they flee, leaving Aroona to die.



- - -



Aarron, is that you? What's a blind Abo? Can you call mum, I don't feel too good. What's a blind Ab… Ab…



- - -



If you listen closely outside you can hear the wailing of a woman, mourning the loss of her son. 'WHY?', she cries. But no one is there.

Now Hiring

Hello HSC year!

Amidst the joy of doing well, the disappointment of doing poorly, and the absolute thrill of passing when you barely tried (ring any bells, two maybe?) – there comes a time when we need to GET REAL.

GET REAL because top marks won't determine the rest of ones life, may that be to a persons relief or disappointment. In my point of view, the marks I leave year 12 with are merely an INFLUENCE on my future.

I remember reading an article that said employers are more impressed by a candidate's outgoing personality, enthusiasm, manners, neat presentation and social skills – rather than the UAI mark, degrees and qualifications. That is unless you're applying for the secretary position of Hermits Limited.

I'm not telling every reader to stop turning up to class nor deprive themselves of homework. If it wasn't for those primary school title pages I'd never have established my love for art. I'm saying that if you genuinely try your best at school and haven't turned out to be the new Aristotle, Newton or Einstein your parents had long hoped you'd be… NEWSFLASH: ITS ALRIGHT! If everyone was academically inclined there'd be no such thing as talent.

I know it's easier said than done because of my supportively 'cool parents'. I still go to parties. I still go shopping. I still talk on the phone. I still have a part time job. And the fact that I can still manage my studies without the enforcement of their boundaries is a skill all in itself.

So set aside this mumbo jumbo (because even I haven't grasped the concept of them yet) about ranks and scales of up and scales of down. I mean, does anyone know exactly how it works? Because at the moment it's all a game of Chinese whispers in the playground about what one teacher against another, about what someone's graduated sister said against someone else's graduated cousin. If such a formula about ranks and scales existed, why haven't we received a newsletter about it? They can update us monthly about incorrect uniform but they can't inform us about the scaling/ranking system.

Geez, if I was that kid that didn't talk to anyone, I'd never have heard about it. But heck, at least I'd have a chance at that secretary position of Hermits Limited, right? SCORE!

I say your best bet is to try your hardest in the subjects you've chosen. Because only Tryhards are allowed to say 'At least I tried my best'.

No matter what you do, NEVER be too busy to have a nice big laugh, to listen to a friend in need, and attend to those boring family trips to the middle of nowhere. Don't be the person who gained a career but lost all else. Because with your $50 000 pay and your one-man mansion, the joke's only on you.

Good luck to all readers undergoing their HSC, and the others counting it down a year from now.

Relationship Ghosts

Hello Blogosphere! I feel like a bear fresh out of hibernation. In between my part time job, reading the Everest of books assigned to us for English extension, being charged for offences of excessive phone usage by Officer Mum, hanging out with friends and watching five consecutive episodes of Sex & the City with my boyfriend, I have longed to dispel my thoughts into an entry just like a deer pants for the water.

I've been monogamously loyal to one dick for a whole year. To me, couples who had been together for more than six months held the same ranks as superheroes, magicians and those super-flexible super-humans on cirque-du-soleil. I thought that to hold a relationship for that long required a showbag of x-ray vision, the pulling of a rabbit out of a hat and working your way across a suspended rope on a unicycle. And now that I can FINALLY speak from experience, I know it does.

You do, after all, need to be a bit of a superhero. It takes a superhero to pull her back when you're both out in public because she's too busy talking to realise where she's going. It takes a superhero to ask her back when she's walked out on the relationship completely. It takes a superhero to remember what days she works, what time she starts walking to the bus stop, what time she wakes up and what time she has dinner… even the time she's to expect her next period. It takes a superhero to know how she's feeling just by the tone of her voice, at times with a tendency to ridiculously over read into things.

You do, after all, need to be a bit of a magician. With a trick up your sleeve to bring a smile to their dial. May it be calling her on the house phone and mobile phone at the same time giving the illusion that your voice is echoing (ok, so I find it funny, so what?!). Or dancing to the opening credits of her favourite soapie before it starts – if you call swinging her around until she's out of breath and shouting incoherent ramblings dancing. I believe the best tricks are those that never die, no matter how many times they're performed.

You do, after all, need to be a super-flexible super-human. It requires swallowing a knife for every time you take in information that hurts – about their past, about their thoughts, about their feelings. It requires jumping through a hoop of fire for every time you take a risk – like giving them a chance against all odds, and against everything you stand for. It requires riding a unicycle across a tightrope for every time you balance each other out, for every time you agree to disagree.

I'm now part of the super-flexible-magicians club.

RANDOMLY ABOVE: Long story =)

Although not married (due to reasons of circumstance) I am in a de-facto relationship with my Sex & the City DVD's. Three cheers to mother dearest for the birthday gift.

Old lovers, ex boyfriends, anyone you have unresolved issues with… When a relationship dies, do we ever really give up the ghost? Or are we forever haunted by our relationship past? - Sex & the City

I think everyone is entitled to their past. But to what extent are they allowed to determine the now? The now feelings. The now girlfriend. The now relationship. I ask because I'm definitely not in the know, if anything I'm in the think.

So maybe I'm too nice, but I believe it's to the discretion of the couple. NOT the discretion of how they deal with it on The OC or Home & Away.

Remember when you first started sleeping on your own? The bed was either too high or too big, and the darkness left you vulnerable to ghosts and monsters. I remember thinking that there was always a man staring at me from the darkest corner of my room, and that my brother's Hercules action figurine would move its arm by itself. But after many sleepless nights, I learned to distinguish between my imagination and reality.

But then there are people who need the comfort of someone else to be their Sandman, the means of a good night and the means of any sweet dreams.

Should relationship ghosts be any different? I know where I stand may I be hypothetically single, in a relationship or cheating. Is it bad that unlike myself, others need a new partner to know where they're at?

In a world where you can date without sex, screw without dating, and in the end, keep most of your sex partners as friends long after a relationship is over, what really defines a relationship?... Maybe… what ultimately defines a relationship is another relationship - Sex & the City

Someone told me that you never really 'get over' someone until you surpass and outdo your last one. For example, you never really get over the girl who kissed you on the cheek and made you blush, until another girl kisses you on the mouth and gives you a boner. You never really get over the girl you loved until you love another more.

But then again, isn't that the mentality that's made relationships the game it is today? A continuous competition of the now partners trying to outdo the relationship ghosts.

You decide.

Rest in Pieces

If I had one wish, I'd make the novel Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom compulsory in the English curriculum. It may not be instant world peace, but it would be the most human way of achieving it. At least then, we'd have something to be proud of.

That way, students would have a choice in discovering the meaning of life. They wouldn't be forced into being better people, the same way no one is forced to listen at assembly – God knows I don't. There would be more good-hearted folks and less people living for material satisfaction.

I'd like to share two things I learnt from the awe-inspiring book (or movie for you couch potatoes!):

"Forgive everyone, everything. Now. Before it's too late"

Experiencing some friendship dramas lately, the quote above really got to me. Would my friends die happy, taking this grudge to the grave? I believe that if it's not worth weighing you down when you're already six feet under, it's DEFINITELY not worth carrying around while you're alive.

Assuming that one of my friends are in the right, matters not. What does matter, right here, right now, is their inability to forgive – placing them BOTH in the wrong.

Forgive and forget. Forget until you don't remember what you're supposed to be forgiving anymore. If you hold on to too many bad memories, you won't have room to store the good.

But if it just so happens that a reconciliation is wishful thinking, it goes to show that true friendship is a process of elimination. Using Darwin's theory of natural selection as a case in point – friends that are fit enough to survive your trials and tribulations, are the ones that will be there forever.

Just think of all the contacts on your MSN list, all your 'friends' on MySpace, the affiliations you see when you're out shopping. If you were to die tonight, how many can you guarantee will be crying next to your deathbed? I bet it's less than all one hundred and fifty something-something-or-other.

"Death ends a life, not a relationship"

True friends are the ones that will visit your grave, and continue to tell you their problems even when you're not there to shake your head and say "Man, I told you so!"

Popularity is a game we play during our childhood. It's just that some people never grow out of it.

And I've got some friends
some that I hardly know
But we've had some times
I wouldn't trade for the world
-Swing Life Away, Rise Against

Secondly, how do you want to be remembered when you die? Think about it every morning before you start your day, because you may not wake to see the next.

"As soon as you know how to die, you know how to live"

Do you want to be remembered as the attention seeker? The user? The liar? The slut? They're just as bad as being remembered for being pretty or always having nice clothes. The only people who wouldn't think it so bad are the sadly superficial.

Be remembered as the girl who radiated what it means to be a good person. Friendly. Giving. Down to earth. Loyal. Optimistic… the list goes on.

THOU SHALL NOT BE A BITCH
even if just for a day, because it might be your last.

10 notches

10 notches down from love is when you recognise his face.

9 notches down from love is when you remember his name.

8 notches down from love is when you can make a fool out of yourself like he has no judgement.

7 notches down from love is when calling him anything other than his pet name feels like the most absurd thing in the world.

6 notches down from love is when you can face him in your pyjamas with no make-up on and state-of-the-art bed hair.

5 notches down from love is when thinking about him, missing him and feeling for him doesn't stop – even when you want it to.

4 notches down from love is when you find typical turn offs cute, when it comes to him.

3 notches down from love is when the thought of committing to him brings happiness and pain combined.

2 notches down from love is just when you think you've had the last straw, he surprises you with a very appealing haystack - which causes you to stay.

1 notch down from love is when you're ready to risk letting someone know you better than you know yourself; so they can swim effortlessly through your veins, and poison your blood; so they can mess with your thoughts, and bring peace to your mind; so they can break your heart and love it back like the world's greatest honour… all at the same time.

Stereotypes

STEREOTYPES. No, I'm not talking about Sony, Samsung or Phillips. I'm talking about gays and lesbians, athiests and typical asians.

Looking back, I've realised that just because someone belongs to a youth group, they're no less susceptible to smoke, drink, get high, swear or have sex than an athiest.

Gone are the days where ones religion has the final say; and here are the days where it all comes down to one thing: personal morals. For example, I'm a Catholic with an undenying faith in the existence of God... but contrary to the church's teaching, I am wholly accepting of gays and lesbians.

In fact, I think some gay couples treat each other better than a husband does his wife. Loving someone of the same gender or abusing your wife? Sadly, society is more accepting of the abusive husband than the gay man. It makes me ashamed to be human.

My mum used to wrap the Christmas presents misleading style. In the case of clothing, she would enclose them inside a museli bar box, prior to wrapping them in Christmas paper. In this way the presents would lie picture perfectly under the tree. It would have been good enough for Hallmark to publish on the cover of their cards. So for the first few years, my cousins would have never guessed that the solid box would have given way to a cotton t-shirt. Exteriors, like stereotypes, are misleading.

It's like how girls think other girls who wear short skirts, wear high heels, make up and 'dance like no one is watching' are sluts trying to get 'picked up', get attention, or get a proposal to 'hook up'. Yes, maybe some of them do. Yes, maybe most of them do. But if they're anything like me, some of them do it for themselves. And if they're any more so like me, they don't care - because life's too short to go around pleasing everyone.

I met a girl who belonged to one of those 'typical asian' groups. She told me about their competitiveness with each other, not only in looks but in the number of boyfriends they had. She hated it. She was ashamed to call these people her only 'friends'. They say that your friends are a reflection of who you are, yet she was nothing like them.

So select a special few, your family, your friends, your boyfriend... and please them in a way that works for you... of whose expectations are in harmony with yours.

So don't look at everyone as they spill out of the church doors, and assume that they all 'go in peace to love and serve the Lord'. Don't think about everyone in gaol and think that they're all guilty.

The next time you make a stereotype, remember that it's merely a generalisation, made for the sake of... well... generalising... and being mostly (not completely) right.