The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

So the thing is at the moment I am a raging lunatic and a complete stranger to myself. 

Firstly, I am really, really sad.  Last night, I was pathetic weeping girlfriend pressed up against the glass at the International Airport watching someone who makes me feel safest and content wander through Gate 75 to board  the 8.45 plane to England, via Dubai. I don't have anything to say about the matter that isn't cliche. Honestly, I don't.

I'm just so sad and the truth is, how I feel is homesick. Like sad and sickly and a bit panicky, like that feeling when you're on school camp and you're convinced you're never going to see your mum or dad or your dog or bed again. And all you want is the familiarity of having someone or something that makes you feel safe or comforted. That's how I feel about said someone. 

Which leads me to my second point, I am really, really angry. Angry that I am this human being that I swore I never would be, someone who invested emotion in a boy to the point of being so sad he's not around anymore that I sat in the dark in my room for an hour, crying about the tragedy of life.

WHY?! AND WHO AM I?! 

I don't know shit, is all I know. 

That is the result of all of this, I've decided. That the only truth I feel at the moment is that I don't know a thing about anything. Which worries me because I'm always rested my self esteem on the fact I know things and thus always have something to say.

But I do know that I am very lucky. Amy drives me to uni, we eat sandwiches and we chat. Teagan picks me up from uni and we chat. Brodie comes over with chocolate and popcorn and we chat. So fortunately for me, I set myself up with amazing people who just chat. Who just sit with me and roll their eyes and laugh and listen and tell me things and inevitably, make me feel like despite how homesick I am at the moment, I've got bricks and mortar. They remind me that the foundations to my amazing life are in fact, them. 

And just an interesting aside, I tearily made my way up to my kitchen this afternoon and found Dad standing there munching on something. He took one glance at my pathetic self, placed his hand affectionately on my shoulder and said 'Welcome to the real world, Jack. Congratulations and finally.'

Which made me cry some more. But, as is usual with my wise Ghandi like father, he was right. This sucks and I'm being dramatic and teen angsty and boring all my friends and feeling like shit but this is an 'oh shit' phase in my life when I transition from someone who thinks they know to someone who realises they don't know at all and hopefully, eventually, to someone is ok with that. Someone is maturer and a little bit wiser. The real world, where people get hurt and fall in love and have sex and learn from all of that. That is where I am. At the moment, I'd sell a boob to make the dull ache go away but I get that this is all part of it.

and, slightly sarcastically, yay.

x

Oh God, my brain is wasted.

So I'm listening to 'Kim' by Eminem and my God, it's disturbing. But awesome and therapeutic? I don't know, the anger relaxes me or something.

Plus I enjoy Kim and Eminem's love/muderous hate/dysfunctional story because they are these sad, little people who grew up together, were kind of meant for each other but circumstances and a lack of emotional education tear them apart every couple of years. Then they get back together because it's destiny and shit..and then they fuck it all up..and so the cycle continues. It's my kind of beautiful, something romantic because it's real. It's not flowers and Tiffanys, it's rage and resistance, fate and the inability to be apart for a really extended period, even after the words have been said, and the songs have been sung. 

Fact: I am dying of something which feels like Tuberculosis. Most likely a head cold, let's not lie here.

Fact: I MISS MY FRIENDS.

Fact: I need sleep.

Fact: Thank you beautiful new follower. You make me happy.

It was never going to be over for us. First smile, first kiss, first glance, even. That was it. Forever began with you.

DEAR BLOGSPOT, MY FIRST LOVE, MY FIRST ONLINE ADDICTION, MY FIRST SELF INDULGENT CORNER OF CYBER WORLD;

Please accept my deepest and sincerest apologies. See, I've betrayed you for a new crush. He's a bit different and a bit of fad, he's not as good looking as you and kind of harder to figure out, his name is Tumblr and that is who I've been spending all those late nights with, instead of you.

Baby, I'll change.

Ok, phewf, love you too. 

So, apart from Tumblring, I've been busy. Like, crazy bizzay. My head is here and there and well, I'm back at  ooni and I rock. I feel about ooni how I should have felt, this time last year. But being young and overwhelmed and newly 18, I couldn't figure out how to like it, how to be good at it, how to even fucking get to lecture theaters.

I don't realllly have anything to write, except I'm frothing over my Journalism tute group, they are a crazy mad bunch who made me laugh, alot, and my Journalism tutor is like my personal God at the moment. I am going to see Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, Tegan and Sara and Angus and Julia Stone all in the coming weeks (months for T&S) thus ticking off a new years resolution that read something along the lines of: MORE LIVE MUSIC.

I'm buying plane tickets for a two week, hiking, biking, 4WDing, adventuring, hitchiking journey in the wild Northern Territory later on the year and I am spazzing out at the thought.

Ok,

love chu long time

x

Valengay Day

The only good thing about Winter, apart from my red beret, is afternoons that look like this.

Take the time to take apart, each brick that sits outside your heart.

It never occurred to me until this year, due to all the winging and sooking, to be devo about being single on Valentines Day. I still didn't buy it though-thank God, and hopefully, single or coupled up, never will.

I met him down by the bay, he said life is a stranger that wont go away.

US Historians and a tumblr. :)

OHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh deary.

Is it possible that white blank empty computer pages-word documents & blog thingys are the most overwhelming thing in the world? 

So.much.to.say!

Firstly- I have music seeping into my pores and back out again in a continuous cycle at the moment. A good friend/the only person in the world whose music taste I enjoy to the equivalent of my fathers updated my laptop with bundles of new music, Artisan Guns, Vampire Weekends new album (heaven), and indie crazy gypsy group called Rapskallion, Philadelphia Grand Jury plus others and that has been nothing but fantastic. On top of this, I'm going to Vampire Weekend, Tegan and Sara, Angus and Julia Stone and if myself and my pathetic friends can get our shit together-Byron Blues and Roots.

Secondly, I am obviously home from the Philippines, which as always, is defining and scary and wonderful and beautiful and crazy and different. Having Amy by my side was also cool, we had many experiences which can only aptly be described as 'ridiculous.' (Fly fishing dude?)

Thirdly, not only did I arrive home, I arrived home to an empty house as my parents trekked onwards to Vietnam. Empty being the watchword. My life is never, ever empty, thanks in no small part to my mentally retarded, crazy, rat bag friends. They took up semi permanent residency in my house and we had some fun times. Lovely moments like disgusting nights out and hungover days having Mario Kart tournaments and roadtrips to my favourite Brisbane suburbs and eating curry lunches on the sidewalk.

Fourthly, I've got nothing. I'm just insanely excited about everything coming up, I'm scared I'm going to die because nothing could possibly be as exciting as everything in store for me in the next couple of months, possibly the next year. The chocolate men have started landing back on Australian soil, that little fun part of my life is starting again, uni is coming up and my honest to God resolve to actually prove my intelligence is also exciting, a toga party, a 21st, my aunties from Canada and London and my uncle from Germany coming to stay, gahhhhh.

Explosive shit!

My mantra for this year is simply 'balance.'

Very self explanatory. 

February 16th-almost missed it this year. I spend every second day of my year, sometimes hours, sometimes just a seconds thought, contemplating the first 9 years of my life and all that occurred in those days and even everything that happened up 'til I was 15. Will probably spend the rest of my life recovering from those 15 years of 'crazy' and suddenly this day sneaks up on me in the midst of everything happening. So bizarre :S Sometimes I feel like I'm still reeling from those nine years and Feb 16th four years ago but then I remember I fall on my feet like a cat after everything and will continue to do so forever. I survive things with zest, yo, despite being obviously angry and a little more sweary, a little more retarded and a little more cynical. Mechanisms of survival as referred to by my favourite dad (but not my only.)

Everyone has a story that will break your heart, right?

I'm just going to hit Publish Post because I cannot believe I just typed all that shit, in the above paragraph and in fact, the paragraphs preceding.

Ramble ramble, garbage, shit, roar, yawn.

Jack x

Oh, my Dog.

I LOVE MY PARENTS.
So after weeks of waiting, I finally got my hands on my ridiculously expensive, ridiculously cool Nikon D5000. Oh, Mum and Dad-I love you.
I took some snaps of Jude, my disgustingly adorable mutt. He had no idea what was going on. Ignore the goopy thing on his eye, ok?
He can't help it.

When we were teenagers, we wanted to be the sky.

...considering how you sleep in summer.

http://piabug.files.wordpress.com/2009/05/boracay.jpg

This photo makes happiness and excitement swill in and around my insides. I haven't felt totally relaxed this whole holidays, except for the couple of beach trips we took at the beginning of the holidays where we sat in Cavill Mall eating ice-cream and observing schoolies. But to be totally free with my best friend and parents on an island in the Asian tropics is going to be something else altogether.

I'm 19 in eleven days which TERRIFIES me. I want everlasting youth, I have never been one of those people who has romanticised ageing or growing up. I'm like Peter Pan. Wendy was an ill-informed dud. But like everything in the world,I have to take it on the chin and milk it. I'm going to be a mental case this year. Staying up til the sun, practical jokes, being retarded in public and justifying it by the fact I am a teenager. Last year, I got a book called 'Thing I wish I knew when I was Eighteen,' and I read it again the other night for pearls of wisdom. These are my two favourites.

'You don't get happy, acquire happy or achieve happy, you just decide to be happy.'
-Simon Mackae

'I decided to make money at what I was good at and leave what I loved for my spare time. THERE IS NO SPARE TIME. There is no spare time.'
-Steven Johnson

You know me, I love to lose my mind.

I got this picture from a tumblr-so no actually credit. Sorry.

http://ushistorians.wordpress.com/

Discovery: I am solar powered.

I cannot cope with this overcast shitfuck weather any longer. I feel like I am drowning in Mother Natures sorrow. She must have her period at the moment or something because she has stolen the sky and replaced it with an ugly grey blanket. 

In retrospect, 2009 was a (fist) bomb of a year. I have a sentimental montage of funny memories, heart smile moments running through my head right now and it's making me very nostalgic. I only hope this year will be just good. 

GOODMORNING 2010, We've been waiting.

I wish I drank coffee and smoked alot, and sat in bohemian cafes talking passionately about literature and how the government sucks our freedom. That'd be cool. That'd be ideal. That'd be me, but less wholesome.
2010: Patience, willpower, Just.Letting.Go. 

Slipped away her innocence, like a silk dressing gown off a body.

Oh the things we do on the 31st of December.

Tonight my friends and I are heading into the heart of funkytown, Brisneyland and dancing like it's the end of a decade. 

'I lost something once. Years and years ago, today.' 
PS-Brodie and I with a random didgeridoo-ist at Southbank. The guy was a crackup, with personality to boot. 

Her daddy hurt her feelings one too many times when she was small.

My wish for the future is that one day, people will study the female practice of wearing high heels with disgust and outrage in the same way we study the Chinese practice of foot binding.
Errr. My brain feels like it is leaking out of its ear after a night with smelly smokers. Ouchy. 
It just started raining again, and because it's 1.27am, it's okay. But only because it's night and rain is only lovely at night. My sense of impending doom goes nuts in weeks such as this, bleak, sporadically-rainy type days. I wish Mother Nature would get on the meds already, her bipolar 'tude is driving me insane. Make up your mind,woman!
I dislike everything at the moment, except for my new purple doona. It's soft and magical.
Everything is making me angry :( 
Image above and bellow:UShistorians.I heart them, even in my bitchy, raging moods.

Be my Chris and I'll be your Gwyneth; Fame won't change us, if we don't let it.

Oh my God, how I want this room, minus the creepy stuffed fox. 

I'm teetering on the edge of being a uni student and, well, not being a uni student and I'm terrified.

Christmas was beautiful, marja and farja out did themselves in terms of spoiling myself and making me overdose on amazing culinary delights. No exaggeration, I ate a kilo of lychees.

I love lychees.

Everything is perfect, despite the unshakable feeling of blahhhh that has plagued me recently.

Lots of love.

x

The kangaroo bounded in front of the car on his legs, taking with him those of a humans.

RIP James Hammond’s spinal cord.

In loving memory of the days when we’d play hide and go seek in mango orchards, you’d beat me up then make up for it by piggybacking me everywhere and the day I stole your fake cigarette and you chased me around for an hour with a super-soaker water gun.

You and Neil made me understood ‘laughing til it hurts,’ and that doesn’t change, functioning legs or not.

I just wish someone would knock on the door and ask for sugar, you know? I'd give em a whole bag and feel happy that this is still the world we live in. Sugar for neighbours, and not being wary of knocking on someone's front door.

SO! A discovery has me feeling a little less murderous and crazy! 
www.jacoblambert.blogspot.com
Holy snappity snap is all I'm saying. I've spent the last hour or so of my life trawling through this dude's photos and instead of grumbling that I want that hour or so of my life back, I'm instead stating that this guy is nothing short of a talented genius who has sent me wild with jealousy. I want his skills!
Seriously his photo's are amazing, get on it pronto.
x 

Hey there Mr. Lovely Moon, you're lonely and you're blue. It's kind of strange the way you change, but then again we all do to.

Currently experiencing the bi-annual bout of ill-temper and anger I get for a week, referred to by my parents as the 'moody blues.' Basically, I'm in a horrendously foul mood that lasts for approximately a week, I have no desire to see anyone and everyone annoys me, plus I have a migraine that lasts just as long. My mood is easily hidden for short periods of time but generally, extended periods with company just set me on edge. I'm not particularly sure why it happens (anger issues, a little birdy whispers in my ear) but after a banana smoothie on the veranda talking life with my dad, it seems to be dissipating slighly. 

I've decided to stop eating red meat as my eyeballs were raped yesterday by a P.E.T.A video featuring the great Paul McCartney called 'If Slaughterhouses had Glass Walls.' Yes, well, the title says it all, does it not. I feel bad for chickens but I really, really love chicken far too much. I'd be kidding if I thought I would be able to give it up. And anyway...it's not like it's chicken farts that fucking up the atmosphere. Shitty excuse, yes, but it's all justified in my head. 

The amazingly orgasmic paintings above are by Audrey Kawasaki, a  Japanese lady who is quite simply, fucking genius. Seriously. Check out her website, www.audrey-kawasaki.com, it fills me with delight.

x

Today

I spilt coffee down my white chiffon blouse and a cute boy laughed at me during the process. I sat in Queen Street Mall with two of my favourite human beings and made prophecies about the future. I wined and dined with the bourgeoisie and later I am going to look at Christmas lights in the 'burbs. 

The cute boy's eyes were green and in my head I named him William.

Oh no! If they see me, I'll have to always be as good as they think.

'When all is said and done, no matter how much I say I hate you, I know we'll end up living in a house on hill, throwing wonderful dinner parties and laughing until the cows come home. That's just how it's meant to be.' 

Creativity forced out the window, despite the soothing and highly beautiful Where the Wild Things Are Soundtrack and the movie itself, which was terribly cute but also a little tragic and a lot sad. 

Plus I have performance anxiety, a lovely lady called Nad from http://naddysfashionaspirin.blogspot.com

commented saying that she liked the way I wrote + is following me. Knowing that a stranger is reading the crap that I blurt into cyberworld makes me nervous!  

Hopefully the city life and a fancy awards lunch at Customs House will give me some inspiration.

Let the wild rumpus start,

Jacki x 

For a social buttefly, you're the most anti-people person I know.

"I feel empty and however that feels, it hurts."

abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvqxyz.

Lots of going on's, I am almost overly happy and overly sad. I'm overwhelmed!

Christmas oh Christmas, working in retail taught me to loathe you, a life time of good food, family and presents taught me to love you. So conflicted!

Everyones leaving and my fragile abandoned daughter side kicks up and inwardly screams at the amount of goodbyes occurring. 

I want a tattoo of the alphabet, please and thank you, because I love the power of those 26 seemingly insignificant characters. Where would I be without them?

At this rate, I could ramble on til sunlight.

I'll cut it short here.

Bundles of love.

J

A morbid streak runs through me, but for you I'd put it to rest.

(C) Image is copy righted fully to Bridie Gilman, free spirit and amazing photographer.

Exactly halfway through the week, it was a Wednesday, she wore a dress of sunflowers, he wore a bow tie and a smile, they both slapped their hearts on their sleeves and fell in love. 

So please excuse my excessive posting of rubbish and well, more rubbish. The heat, beach trips, mountain climbing, lung competitions, Vampire Diaries, Fight Club and Diary of a Bad Year have all gotten to me, giving me lots of time to think and lots of moments of inspiration. Leading to this: excessive shit blog posts of my literary moments.

But ja, in a nutshell, mountain climbing, beaching, working, watching Vampire Diaries and reading Fight Club and Diary of a Bad Year has been what I have been doing. 

The heat is making me ridiculously happy, last night the family and I had a candle light dinner on the veranda, it was so balmy and so perfect, despite the hordes of mosquitos dining grandly on my toes. Then the sillies I call my friends turned up and I ended what had been a near perfect week with a Mcdonalds mud muffin with soft serve sitting in the back of Teagans car, parked in the carpark. It was so bogan, so small town teenager that it was almost cool. I had a moment of sentimentality, just quietly. 

Life is good. 

The Art of Defying Everything and Nothing.

Lara stood on her tiptoes, a bow in her hair, leotard at its customary uncomfortable, twirled once, twice, three times and used a darkhaired stranger, standing in the corner of the room as her spot.

Spot: A still and solid object, used by ballerinas and gymnasts to prevent dizziness and keep them steady during pirouettes.
His name was Alexander and if there was anyone in the world less steady and solid, it was him.
Lara learnt to defy gravity and anatomical sense when she was seven. The girl was a dancing angel; she twirled on the worn wood floors of her dance studio, day one of enrolment.
She twirled breezily through life, day one of her existence.
The only thing Alexander had defied by age seven was the odds.
By the time Lara had learnt the art of relying on steady and stationary things whilst twirling around a room, Alexander had learnt the art of falling, crashing and burning.
Ironic, paradoxical even, that on the most important day of Lara’s eighteen years, she was using a dark-haired stranger as her most imperative life-boat, a figurative saviour from stormy weather. Rescued from un-balance, unsteadiness, dizziness, off-centred pirouettes.
Ironic, paradoxical even, that on the worst day of Alexander’s twenty years (a tough, tough call for what had been a decidedly bad life) he was being used as a lifeboat. Funny that there had never been a bigger need for a lifeboat in Alexander’s life than right then.
In a paradoxical, ironic five seconds of stillness and circular motion, reliance and unfathomable serendipity, Lara and Alexander’s worlds collided, one world easy, the other hard.

So tell me when you hear my heart stop, you're the only one who knows.

A single white feather floated down to Earth from the wing of a bird.

A tear fell from the duct of an eye, rolled down a cheek and splashed on the cement.

A little boy fell from his blue bicycle, learning that he is not invincible.

A heart fell from a chest and shattered into bloody red pieces on a bedroom floor.

Hop into a giant balloon and descend some place like New York City.

We'll live in a crusty old apartment in Manhattan, made chic by a haphazardly strung up set of Tibetan prayer flags by the window. We'll be poor but learn that money never meant much anyway, we'll eat breakfast, lunch and tea on the rooftop amongst the company of a 50 over friendly pigeons. I'll get over my fear of birds because of this. We'll drink cheap red wine up on that rooftop, during hazy orange sunsets and yell 'New York, we love you.' We'll catch the subway, like true NYC slickers, but be secretly scared of getting mugged by homeless men in beanies every ride. I'll sit by the window in our apartment, listening to the beat of the city and write the start of a hundred different books. We'll buy wobbly bikes with chipped paint and cycle around Central park, we'll eat ice-cream but never eat from a hot dog stand because there is nothing worse than processed, unidentfiable meat in a red skin served by Latino's on street corners wearing stripes and a hat. We'll adopt a cat and name him Cat, al la` Holly Golightly. We'll drink too much coffee and  smoke too many cigarettes,  sitting in boho dives, surrounded by poets and musicians and creepy, dark cloak wearing types.

And after all of that, on the first Saturday of each month, we'll deposit the coins from our Broadway Coin Jar, dress to the nines and see a musical.

Au revoir, she yelled, wishing she knew the French words for 'The End.'

''If ever there is a tomorrow when we're not together, there is something you must always remember: you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is even if we're apart, I'll always be with you.'

Chris Robbin to Winnie the Pooh.

Oodles and oodles of happenings leading to no bloggity blog time. I'm so tired my eyes are actually going to flop out of their sockets, nights out that last till sunny 6am's have been detrimental to my health, sanity and ability to sit and form structured sentences; so, sorry.

Firstly, blood sucking scumster Mr. University has upped and finished, leaving me with copious amounts of spare time and, tragically, has brought the departure of all my lovely, 2009-making, foreign friends. Suddenly, my big, happy, St. Lucia living family of friends is splitting off and trudging back to their homes, some in South Africa, one in Thailand and a couple to the Middle East. Then there's the one who is leaving Brisbane to gallavant around South America for 4 months which is making me feel empty and all kinds of sad. BUT, I mentally kick myself, they'll be back for '10 (How FUCKED does that look? 2010 is just a bizarre looking/sounding year. Nothing good comes from year that is shortend to '10' rebuts the cynic inside of me)

End of year nostalgia has swallowed me and is chewing slowly.

Hmf.

x

PS-For a sentimental, uplifing and all round well-spent 3minutes and 5seconds watch Olympus's 50th Anniversary video. It is pure gold and makes me smile involuntarily even with a headache and exhaustion to boot: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m9Et7UQh1tg

If you couldn't be bothered, then just google pictures of Jacob from gayfuck New Moon movie. The movies/books now make me dry wretch a little but, Lord above, that boy personified the expression 'hottie with da bodyy'

...Haha.

.....But seriously New Moon/Twi-porn movie ticket made worthwhile x 3 by that kid.

An enchanted place they could all go where headaches, heartaches and society aches could be taken away.

These photos are some of the most loved and revered photos that exist on my computer, and I am uploading them because, well, I love them hugely and because it occurred to me that at least 4 people have asked me where they were taken, as if it is some natural wonderland, a secret naional park we discovered that you have to drive a millions miles inland to get to.
Luckily, not at all. Good work Tee for discovering our very own enchanted place where it feels good just to sit and breathe.
x

He held my hand, he said, so that he could keep me tethered to the surface of the Earth.

Amy is reading a book called ‘Before I Die’ and it’s basically about a pathetic dying girl. She was defending the book as I paid her out, ‘it’s well-written and lists things that she’ll (the protagonist) will miss’, Amy reckons. Like water in a spider web. Puh-lease. Cliche`anyone? Like anyone will actually miss stupid water droplets in stupid spider webs. But then I started thinking about things I would miss if I died and then I promptly fell into one of those moody black holes thinking about who and what I’d miss if I died right now. My answer was everything. I’d miss everything. Everything except spiderweb’s with water in them, because well, that’s just lame. I’d miss Red Room $5.50 bowls of wedges and the way Cassie throws her head back when she laughs. I’d miss Stacey constantly looking at me with annoyance and disapproval only to crack into a smile, and Teagan whose body literally goes into shutdown when she laughs too hard. I’d miss Amy and the way she constantly says “God you’re shit,” in the same annoying, exasperated tone that I hate to love. I’d miss things like tequila shots and the car racing game on my phone. I’d miss my parents and the stupid conversations I overhear of theirs about shit things like losing weight together and mum’s ridiculous hair cut.

In retrospect also, I have come to the conclusion of that someone dying is not only a tragedy in the fact it’s a loss of life, but it’s a little loss of self for everyone involved. Both times I’ve had significant people die in my life, something I remember clearly and with sadness is the moments before I got the news. I was so unprepared, so clueless that in minutes I’d lose a little of myself and all former knowledge about how life was supposed to be. I remember washing the dishes after a barbeque breakfast, thinking only about the new tub of Neopolitan Ice Cream in the fridge and how I really needed to get to the chocolate before dad did. I remembered being called down to the lounge room, walking slowly down the stairs and sitting on the floor in front of mum and dad, my thoughts still fixated on the chocolate third of tub of ice cream, not knowing what was about to change for me. I was never exactly the same after that day, in the same way no-one is when someone they know dies. And isn’t that a greater perspective on the scope of tragedy that death is? Not only does one life vanish, simultaneously lots and lots of lives are dragged away also. A lot can change in weeks and days and even in seconds, a young guy swings off a beam in his house and suddenly the youthful sense of self of hundreds of young adults is gone and never to return.

If you think about everything you won’t have when you don’t have it anymore; from tequila shots and silly conversations, not only is everything ok, it’s more than a little impetus to get out of bed tomorrow and do everything to kick death, and life I suppose, in the butt.

Love

The man looked at the draw of his shiny silver dessert forks and soup spoons and did not feel how he expected he should. In fact, he felt rather empty. He had proved no point at all with his elaborate cutlery draw

Had an awful night in the Valley on Saturday night bettered only by a cute drunken boy from my yesteryear and the toilets at Cloudland. Rubbed shoulders with the extremes of Valley pretentious elite and it gave me a headache and bundles of food for thought. I was as sober as someone post-liver transplant so was able to crankily observe humanity at one of its worst levels. In Cloudland, I witnessed martini sucking, abstract art buying, business card toting pretentious yuppie types and at the end of the night I witnessed unbathed, red lipsticked, hat wearing non-conformist indie types at Ric’s. Non-conforming to the social practise of buying deodorant apparently. I resent the often ironic pigeon holing these people do. To themselves! The cool kids of Ric’s most likely think they are revelling in individuality and their lack of pretentions, which baffles me because a)they all look the friggin’ same and b) 5% of them are actually as poor as they dress. And at Cloudland, those people to me are just ignorant silly sods who care about dessert forks and whether someone lives in West End or South Brisbane. (Apparently there is a big difference.)

Anyway, rant rant rant.

Sorry.

x

Basically what we have here is a dreamer. Someone who is out of touch with reality. When she jumped, she probably thought she'd fly.

After feeling a little safe from my group of friends simultaneous sickness, I wake up this morning with a voice suited better to a 12 year old mid pubescent boy and a pain in my throat better suited to a over-zealous prostitute. I blame my twin best friends. I may be making this up but they were born premature so the Gods went a little heavy making sure they had quick metabolism and didn't have enough time to install them with immune systems. Sweet work, I think not.

This morning I saw a reindeer. I'm talking a Rudolf the Red-nosed reindeer, reindeer.

It was wonderful.

Yesterday, I went to the Queensland Multicultural Festival which was also wonderful. There is really very little I love more than seeing the world how it should be, with people that are all different colours eating different foods and listening to all different types of music. Walking into the gates is like walking into a snowglobe, a little slice of a perfect Universe. Soo great.

x

"Everyone has a dad!" she protested. "Not me!" the curious boy exclaimed, grinning triumphantly as he continued down the path.

I have been struck with a terrible inability to conjure the right words or good enough thoughts to post into cyberspace. I hope it passes soon. So just quickly, life is good at the moment. Actually, what is good is how I feel about it all. I'm in a great state of mind and I hope I can remember how I feel right now, how I felt over the weekend and how I feel when I think about the week ahead so that I can store it all up and use it as a weapon against the inevitable crappiness that comes after a period of sunshine and content.

lots of love,

jc

I hid under your porch because I love you.

Gush gush gush. I saw Up last night with my mum after months of wanting to see it and I was ridiculously amazed. So pretty, so magical, so imaginative, so uplifting. It was food for the heart. I really want a tattoo of the picture above or even just a tattoo of a bunch of balloons. Apart from having the weirdest dreams and waking up exhuasted, I'm silly with happiness and content at the moment, which scares me. Scary because life made pessimists of the human race meaning that when things are going right, instead of savouring the wonder of it, we worry about how something has to go wrong now. I mean usually it does, right? But it's going to go wrong anyway, why not be as happy as can be while you can. So easy to say, but so very difficult to do. Could it be a defining characteristic of the human condition? Quite possibly, I'm saying.

♥

JC

One by one the coincidences just kept happening. Silly, magical things that they are.

Been thinking alot about the plans that humans make to comfort themselves and how very rarely those plans go right. While that sounds kind of sooky, I'm actually in awe of the Universes' way of throwing people together. Last night for instance, I was in the most bizarre situation. It was 2.30am, I had just eaten a kebab with a massive group of people that if someone had foreseen would be my friends, I would have slapped. My visions for this year couldn't be any more different to what has actually happened and for some reason this is such a weird and wonderful thing. Which makes me think that making elaborate plans is tempting the God's to muck us around. Like, who do we think we are detailing in our heads how our futures are going to go, like we have some control? It's hubris in a way.

Which makes me think I should never be sure of anything. Not even sure of the fact, I'm going to have a silly, crazy child called Lily, or sure of the fact I WON'T get married. It makes me reconsider everything I know is right and certain which terrfies me. And then after all this thinking has been done and my brain is about to implode, I think well a) thats life. and b) if my plans go awry in life the way they have this year, that's ok. Because, well, the amazing friends I have now, some met through uni and some met through mutual friends, are a living testament to the kick-arseness of a year gone not according to plan.

And all the lilies of the Nile turned to face her like the sun.

I keep having visions of a pretty little dark-haired messy girl running around bare foot and drawing on herself. In my head I've named her Lily even though I always swore to myself that the name of my first child would be Willow. She seems more like a Lily though. My visions now also include my friends' silly children. Everything is hazy and happy in these visions and I get little bubbles of excitement thinking about crazy Lily throwing her shoes off in shopping centres and giggling with my friend's babies. I'm terribly in love with the small army of children running around in my head, particularly Lily, because they all remind me that everything is going to be ok. Despite the fact that they are figments of my over-active imagination, the sillyhappy I get when I think about them reiterates the fact that things pass and how I feel at the moment, how any of my friends are feeling, is just a small little phase of what will hopefully be a long and fulfilling life.

♥

JC.