thought# 162- two thousand and nine

Day 2: A photo of yourself a year ago

This was already done but i am not one to be lacking in luvo photos haha so here's a photograph.

love,

thought #161- take a picture, it'll last longer.

once again, ive been sucked into another 30 day challenge haha.

Day 1: Your Facebook profile picture

Taken at Denise's 21st birthday shindig. This photo reminds me of the old school days, I miss them.

thought #160- lisp

i still remember the first time we met. i was minding my own business, sitting at a cafe i regularly (though not religiously) visited. my eyes were fixated upon the first few pages of prozac nation. the prose drowning me with its hypnotic, suffocating swell. i had one hand cupped against my skim mocha, the other wrapped around my book. i paid no attention to my surroundings, enveloped by physical and mental warmth. a careless body bumped into me and i was automatically removed from my hypnosis. he wore a collared shirt. tight pants and those leather boat shoes. i thought he looked geeky. slightly ridiculous. in between handsome and unusual. he kind of had a feminine twang to his grimace. he noticed my attention and blinked repeatedly. i thought he had something in his eye.

"sorry" he said. i heard a soft lisp.

i returned to my book but noticed the time. i left in a hurry and dropped my pen.

three weeks later my friend asked me to attend a pub gig. it was one of those warm spring nights, filled with sparkling wine and bare shoulders. we were smoking cigarettes, our backs against cool walls ridden with peeling paint. then he went on stage. armed with his weapon; armed with a guitar. he wore a collared shirt. tight pants and those leather boat shoes. it was him. i could not mistake it. i hadn't seen him for three weeks.

he strummed a few chords before continuing to greet the cheerful crowd. his lisp amplifyed as if he were making love to the microphone.

"this is a song i wrote, three weeks ago. about a girl, i didn't even meet. i know it sounds awkward because it is. i'm not a creep, i promise. i just kind of wish i said hello or something. or at least returned the pen she dropped. i'm sorry i let a stranger like her go as a stranger. this song's called sorry." i heard that soft lisp.

i remember feeling somewhat touched. somewhat frightened. somewhat freaked out. some what adored. he sat at the bar and i saw a pen sticking out of his left pocket, like a hand waving to be seen.  i approached him and said "i believe that's my pen."

he looked like he had seen an apparition. i told him i enjoyed his song and that he better not let me leave as a stranger again tonight. and so he didn't. and so i got my pen back.

a week later, i read more of prozac nation reaching the lines  I’d never been one of the lucky ones. I was always single, with occasional lapses into-well, into other kinds of lapses. feeling utterly empathetic. but then a lapse becomes a reality and out of nowhere people come into your life. then suddenly feeling sorry for yourself is nonsense. he came over one day. the lisp boy with the collared shirt, tight pants and leather boat shoes. he said he wrote a new song about me and he looked away with rouge cheeks. "this song's called thank you." 

love,

ps. must find this book and movie.

thought 159#- we're friends not just.

so last week i unintentionally bumped into someone i  had previously adored. adored being an understatement. i was fantastically smitten over this guy to the point of ocd, unable to speak in his presence kind of pathetic shit (come on i was in year eight, give me a break). but anyway, i hadn't physically seen him for over a year so to casually exchange greetings and cheap conversation was nice. but to be honest i couldnt refrain from thinking at the back of my head "wow, i used to like crazy stalker love this guy." it was an awkward thought to be having whilst in mid-conversation but i couldn't help myself. as i walked away from that trivial encounter i realised/accepted something crucial. "we are just friends. and that's how it was always supposed to be." of course it would of saved me innumerable hours and moments of heartache, confusion and what not if i had merely accepted this fact but the journey is far more important than the destination in this context. 

i think its slightly frightening to see someone you used to have a past with, used to feel differently about, have memories that are much more than walking down the street and saying "how's it going?" and find that normality. at the back of your mind you wonder how to act. how can you just be friends when you never started off as one? but once you finally get to that place of realisation, once you are at peace it's honestly amazing. it feels like you're no longer competing or trying to figure something out that isn't even there. the deciphering, the obsessive crazed delusion is washed away by this understanding that life goes on and its very normal to filter through people and where they stand.

i can honestly say i am at rest with the guys who are affiliated with this concept. all but one. but we're getting there. i can finally be happy to say we're just friends and that's how its meant to be. life is so much better facing reality then abusing and bruising yourself over a fantasy, a mendacious hope that he'll wake up and realise we belong or some shit. i mean yes im slightly carnal to say that id be quite satisfied if all the people in the world that cracked open my heart would wake up and realise they want me back but can never again, but other than that im living in hope NOT illusion. if they're meant to be they'll be and if friendship is all that it's meant to be, then so be it.

love,

 

ps. i adore this movie! beyond the fact ryan reynolds graces us with his sexy presence and is momentarily fat and singing i swear haha.  

pps. friperie's spring collection is out pretty bitches and handsome pricks (haha totally kidding). check it out at http://friperiesydney.blogspot.com

thought #158- i want a boyfriend, minus the boyfriend

i'm slightly embarrassed to confess this but i'm kind of lonely. laugh as you will, call me soft and weak, label me romantic and cheesy but that is the veracity. now this doesn't mean i'm desperate and about to pounce on the next guy that presents me with a hint of attention, neither does it mean that i'm ready to sell my soul for a relationship. it's just a momentary feeling of solitude. no biggie but i must say a lot of things have affected this sudden change (or absence) of heart.

first, it's the current desert of romantic interests i find myself stranded on. now don't get me wrong the feeling is a relief, and i'm not fussed either. but the last time i didn't like someone was.... i can't even remember because it was that long ago. i guess i've just grown accustomed to always having someone there to fantasise and stalk haha. someone to secretly adore or publicly admire. second, is the sudden increase in relationships/engagements/love. it's both a nauseous, envious feeling. with almost ever facebook status riddled with "SO AND SO IS GETTING ENGAGED!!!... HAPPY ANNIVERSARY BABY... I'M GOING TO BE A MRS!" farout. i puke on the tissue i use to wipe my stray tears (totally joking). third is the lack of excitement. there is no more fun; the thrill of the pursuit, the euphoric "honeymoon" phase, the catastrophic heartbreak (thank God) and the getting over. nothing.

i'm trying not to sound like i'm complaining but i suck at patience. i guess i just miss the feeling, the memories, the security. i miss not being so selfish. i feel guilty for saying so, as if i'm craving gluttonous treats. but is it really such a sin to want someone to grin about in public and frighten strangers, receive a text message and know exactly who it is, someone to spend the day with and not grow weary. someone to write notes on your bed side table with pretty things like "have a good day, ugly x" someone you down a bottle of wine with even when there isn't any reason to celebrate, someone to finish your food, someone to take half- cut face photographs with, someone to tell secrets with and giggle about the most trivial things. someone to smile at like a pathetic little nutter, someone to cook brunch with and stay in bed all afternoon with obscure films and a guitar, someone willing to try and figure you out as you do the same with him. maybe it is. maybe i just need to get out more. maybe that person doesn't exist. or is halfway across the world thinking the same things about a girl with a concocted identity. maybe, maybe not.

love,

ps. my dear lord, kill me now.

thought #157- where do you end and where do i begin?

 "for something to begin, something must end"

i don't think i can count the times i have repeatedly encountered this phrase. be it in a church sermon, peppered within the contents of a cheesy love song, said in tears by a chick flick protagonist, found within the lines of novel, anywhere and everywhere. it is after all truth.

i recall writing about "endings" in a previous thought, and once again it appears as a reoccurring notion. i don't think i'll ever get over thinking about endings. they happen too often in life to forget. i think we often fail to remember that the death of things, people, epochs in life are not always sad. i mean its true, there's nothing happy and pleasant about having to say goodbye to a two year relationship with someone you actually thought of realistically walking down the aisle with. or graduating high school, or when someone you love with cancer passes away, or when you suddenly realise you're not 13 and can never be again. the end and death of something is always painful, especially when it isn't wanted. especially when it isn't inevitable,  especially when we still cling to what we know we must leave behind.

but this is life. we will never grow, learn, change and blossom if we are forever confined to the same atmosphere, people, thoughts, experiences. we make our own minds up, our own lives up, our own beliefs and values to follow by the things that end and begin in life. maybe for you to learn to forgive or begin to love you have to end that relationship that was actually destroying both parties. maybe for you to experience the world and challenge your convictions you had to graduate high school and enter the real world in all its wonder, brilliance, tragedy and chaos. maybe it is only after physical death  that you begin to cherish the importance of life and understand the fleeting nature of existence. and maybe it is only that you're no longer a teenager that responsibility, freedom and wisdom is birthed.

i'm not saying you can't grieve, i'm not even saying "for fuck sakes just get over it" because we're only human. it takes time. for some it's a day, some it's three months, some its fifteen years. sometimes it's never really. but the irrefutable truth is if you want something to start, you must bid something adieu. permanently... well for as permanent, this non-permanent life can get.

love,

ps. so true.
pps. http://thxthxthx.com/ love this site.

thought #156- scribbles

my insomnia birthed a few lines of a story ( a story with zero plot, storyline or future yet to be figured). i don't know if i will ever finish or really start this. just a few lines to get the brain and creativity back on the treadmill again.

There is something innately beautiful about struggle. The way leaves refuse to unfurl at a Winter’s lash. The war between a body and a bed at 6am. My refusal to stop loving people long after they have stopped loving me. Nevertheless lies something extraordinary. Perhaps it is found in the wiring of a human being, to forever be relentless. To bicker with the option of “no” and the alternative of “lose.” I always thought being ruthless was rather romantic. To surrender, weak. However, sadly, us humans in our constrained capabilities are forever slaves to limitations. One can only love so much, struggle so much, live so much until they want no more. Like myself and like today.

love,

ps. finally, motivation = fire at the heels.