Home is where the heart is and my heart is not here.

I love and miss my family but Singapore is most definitely not my home anymore. I don't think it ever was. I've only been here for a couple of days but I already miss Perth and my friends and my Perth family and my bed and my church and my car and my ballet class (even though it's over for the year).

I can't wait to get home; my friend needs me and I want to be able to help her and calm her down but for now, Facebook messaging will have to suffice.

I missed my church's Christmas carol service. That made me really sad; I really enjoy them and I actually hate Christmas carols (barring maybe one or two). I think it's the people I spend it with and the whole atmosphere and vibe of the event.

My cousin's wedding was on last Sunday and it was really great. It was really relaxed and it was just so great to be able to spend time with my family, especially my cousins. I get on along with all of them A LOT more than I used to; I think it's because I'm older now and I've started spending more time with them whenever I come back (we have gatherings all the time). I was the youngest of the whole group for the longest time (there's another younger one now but she's like, 5, then there's me who's 18 and the rest are above 20) so there was a rather large age gap but now I'm older so it's not as bad or awkward. My cousin's wedding dinner was wild :D. There was dancing, singing, photo-taking, mantou eating, teasing, (a little bit of) drinking, cheering and it was only all from us. As Chris said, ''you know when you go to a wedding and there's that really obnoxious table? I think we're that table tonight." :D But congratulations to Hui Hui and David though!

Expect more of these innane life/day update blog posts now that I'm in Singapore for the next four weeks. I get bored so I blog but I have nothing to blog about so I blog about what I do. Even I get a bit lame about them but I need to have something to do. Sorry in advance.

"...and like I can't force the sun to rise
or hasten summer's start,
neither should I rush my way into your heart.

I'll be waiting for you baby,
I'll be holding back the darknest night.
Love is waiting till we're ready, til it's right."

I don't think I need to say much about it :).

Everything's going to be okay.

Today as I was sitting in the back seat going down the freeway in a friend's car, I realised something - things are okay. It's okay for me to live in the now. It's okay for me to relax sometimes.

As you may or may not know, I've been a bit confused over some guy that I've seen around the place (yeah, yeah, I know - everything revolves around a guy) and because I'm leaving to visit my family overseas soon, I'll be missing two Sunday church services plus our Christmas carols service. I've been quite bummed out about this because it means that I don't get to see his face (church is the only place I see him currently since uni is now over) and I felt like this meant I could be loosing precious time in getting to know him.

I've realised now that that's okay. It's okay to not have things always go your way, it's okay to sit back and relax sometimes, it's okay to not always have control over everything.

There have been times where I've wished I had ultimate control. Control over what I study, what I do with my future, the sort of job I have and the income I get, the friendships I have, the relationships I want, control over my body, the way I feel... the list goes on. Looking over it all now though, I'm realising that everything's actually turned out okay. Not exactly the way I had hoped but still fine. Even though I'm not doing what I really want to be, the course I'm taking at uni isn't that bad and I'm still young and I'm still dancing. Even though I don't have a proper job, my parents have been gracious enough to give me an allowance and I've managed to get some babysitting and editing work here and there - enough to get me by. This year's been a bit of a rocky year friendship-wise but even then, I've made some awesome new friends and some of my friendships with other people have just gotten stronger.

While my relationships, body and emotions are still things that I'm having to deal with, I'm slowly realising and learning that it's okay. If a relationship (even a friendship) is meant to happen, it'll happen. What we do or don't do just affects the timing of it all. In regards to my body, all I can do is try to eat well and be healthy and with my emotions, well I'm a girl. Enough said :). I tried turning to stone once but it didn't really work out the way I had hoped so instead of fighting it, why not embrace it? I'm not saying I'm going to give in to all my petty emotions but instead of trying to fight off everything, I'll just be as strong as I can and not be proud.

I believe that we're made to go through things for a reason. To make us stronger, wiser, help us learn from our mistakes, impact some one's life. Sometimes it's hard or impossible to understand but that's life and there's not much we can do about it. Life isn't all candy and sunshine and rainbows; it's also storms and lightning and mud. But how would a rose grow from a tiny little blind bud into a beautiful flower without the help of sun AND rain? It's all for a higher purpose.

I know sometimes I think, "why do I have to go through this?" and I just feel like giving up but really, there's nothing anyone can do about the situation itself. You can either just give up completely and entirely or soldier through. I often think to myself that I'd like to just give up entirely but deep down, I know what I'd pick because I'm still here, aren't I? "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" they say. I think maybe it's not really about making you stronger but it's about making you wiser. We grow and we learn through people and experiences and no matter what happens, we come away from it knowing something new about ourselves. With that said though, it doesn't mean that I'm not allowed to complain sometimes :P.

I've been called a perfectionist and even then, it's okay for everything to not be perfect sometimes.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that things don't always have to be amazing and wonderful and incredible. They can be shitty, awful and pointless or they can be average, all right and okay. All of that is totally fine. Don't feel like it's the end of the world just because some guy or girl didn't look your way or some top didn't suit you or you didn't do as well as you were hoping on an exam or assignment or you didn't get the job you wanted, the scholarship you dreamed of or because someone else is better at something than you. I mean, sure, go ahead and feel crappy for a while but don't give up. It's not the end of the world. If you love something enough, you'll go after it. It doesn't matter what it is, what other people think or what happens in the end. Just go for it if you love it and if it means something to you.

For that second while cruising down the freeway, I felt okay. Not exactly happy but I felt okay and that was all right. I felt okay about not knowing him, not liking him, I was okay about not seeing his face and not knowing him now. Most importantly I think - I was okay with who I was. Even if it was just for that second, I was filled with this feeling of relaxation and calmness that I don't often (try ever) feel. Often, I don't like being left alone with my thoughts (I sleep with music on so I can focus on that rather than my thoughts) but in that moment, I was feeling all good with driving around and watching the scenery go by, not paying attention to the conversation going on in the front and just thinking.

Everything's going to be okay.

"And I think to myself
It's a beautiful night
And I know everything is gonna be alright
Yes, now I know it'll be alright ." - Josh Radin - Everything'll Be Alright

Look A Likes

I freeze. The hand holding my cookie is halfway to my mouth and I’m hungry but I cannot move. I cannot blink, I cannot breathe. Standing in my line of vision is one of the best looking men I have ever seen. He reminds me of someone; someone I don’t want to think about but yet cannot avoid doing so because he looks just like him.

Him who broke my heart without trying. Him who was amazing and everything I wanted. Until now. A new start, a fresh break. The hair, the mannerisms, the eyes, the nose; a doppelganger but not. This one is older, more mature, experienced, different (at least I hope so). Not him. Him who I still see, still talk to, still smile with. Stop thinking about him.

I see him in my lectures sometimes, sitting there and I’m tempted to sit next to him but no. We’ve been down that road before; we don’t want to push anything. But he’s gorgeous and he just smiled and I think I’m dead. I’m brought back down to Earth by a friend’s distracting buzzing in my ear but with only half of my listening attention lingering on her and all of my visual attention focused on him. He puts on his reading glasses and oh my god I really am dead now. I don’t care about the stupid smile on my face or the fact that my friend knows I’m not listening anymore. All I can see is him who isn’t him.

I see him everywhere. Lecture halls, food hall, library, grass field and wait, what – church?

I most definitely just died and went to Heaven. He is not him and he is now everything that I want. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t play an instrument or doesn’t listen to the same music or if he might not read books (although I know he does – thank you literature lecture). He goes to church.

No, I don’t like him. Not yet. Or at least I tell myself. I just have to know him.

I think I’m going to explode.
________________________________________________________________

Just a short fluffy piece I did in like, 20 minutes because I felt like writing and (I know it's not the greatest piece [coughunderstatementcough] but) I was bored.
Yeah, I blog when I'm bored.

Things I'd Rather Be Doing

Things I'd rather be doing than going uni:

1. Dance
2. Musical Theatre
3. Make Up
4. Reading
5. Writing
6. Singing
7. Designing
8. Dance
9. Drinking coffee
10. Dance
11. Reading
12. Performing
13. Musical Theatre
14. Learning the piano again
15. Dance
16. Singing
17. Make Up
18. Learning the guitar
19. Dance
20. Travelling
21. Musical Theatre
22. Singing
23. Dance

...

I think you get the picture.

I know I'm on holidays at the moment but I was talking to some friends last night about uni and doing what you love versus doing what to need to to survive and it just got me thinking (again) about my future and where I'm going to go with an English degree. Sigh.

Also, I went to my old high school's annual Choreography Night last night and it was a fantastic show. Skye (the head of dance and my dance mummy; I love her) has just done an absolutely amazing job. I was also reunited with my beautiful dance family who I have been separated from for faaaaaaaar too long. I miss dancing and spending time with them. I love you all!

Anyway, I'm itching to write something again but I haven't really had much inspiration lately. I'll start to write something but then decide after the first paragraph that I don't like it and stop. Boo.

Dezatron dismantled

I'm not as tough as everyone thinks.

One of my nicknames might be inspired by Transformers but I am far from anything the Autobots represent. Not bravery, courage, selflessness... maybe loyalty but that's about it.

I am not strong and I am not brave. I am weak in so many ways and I am scared of so many things. I'm not strong mentally and most definitely not emotionally. I let myself get dependant and lost in people too easily and the really sad part is that I know it. Is it really hypocritical of me to know all of this and yet not seem to be able to do anything about it? Sometimes I do feel like a hypocrite; I'm not sure if that's the right word to use. It's like, I know all this about myself but still I don't (or can't) do anything about it.

I tried once. I got so tired of always being the one to make the effort so I just gave up. I stopped arranging things with people, I stopped texting and calling people unless I really needed to, I stopped asking people for things, I tried to stop depending on people so much. And I pulled it off for a while. I suppose I still am trying although I have lightened up a bit on the "shunning" people part. I feel like I'm burdening people when I talk to them about what I'm going through so I just keep quite.

Anyone who knows me really well knows that I'm not one to just start talking about how I feel. It is extremely hard for me to talk about how I feel and what I'm going through which is why I tend to be very quite often. Heck, I can't even type about how I feel and have people read it - I have whole other blogs for that that no one reads. So it all just stays inside until suddenly the dam breaks and the water[works] just come flying out. And it always seems to happen at the most inconvenient of times in the most inconvenient of places.

It really doesn't help with how I handle things though. My friend once compared me to an egg. Hard on the outside, soft on the inside and when the shell cracks, everything just explodes and falls to pieces. It was extremely apt.

I suffered my first breakdown when I was 12. I don't know why or what caused it except that I was incredibly sad and depressed and that lead me to almost do some pretty dangerous stuff. And now you know something about me that most people don't. Since then, my emotions have been a very turbulent issue that I've had to deal with over the last six years. They can fluctuate with the help of anything - school, work, TV shows, music, relationships, friendships, boys, movies, books or just for no reason in particular.

Right, so back to the original point: I let my emotions control me a lot. This is a bad thing since my emotions are so unstable; and I don't just swap between happy and sad. Depressed, angry, hyper, bored and a whole spectrum of other moods and emotions come into play as well and they can change within a wink. So yes, my mood swings are dangerous.

People say feeling is part of being human but if so, I don't like to be human then. What separates humans from robots? Is it the ability to breathe or think independently? Some say it's the ability to feel, to have a heart and experience emotions. Well, if that's what separates us from them, then sometimes I wish I was a robot.

A robot who doesn't go through emotions and who doesn't possess the ability to feel scared.

Maybe then I won't be such a coward.

I'm scared of a lot of things - insects and bugs, clowns, relationships, forever being alone, growing fat, the future, being alone in a crowded room, talking about how I feel, having no money, never being happy, new experiences... the list goes on.

I am not brave or confidant. I actually cannot talk to new people (except maybe when I'm intoxicated) which means I cannot just talk to someone who I think is gorgeous (so all my friends can now stop telling me to "just go up and talk to him", thanks). I am a coward and it has left me in this rut. I will not go into an in depth post about said "him" because it is long and complicated and tiring. You can try to search out my other blog or ask me about it if you really want to know about it, although I may not tell you if you ask me.

Anyway, I am too scared and uncertain to talk to him; I am too scared and uncertain to face my problems; I'm too scared and uncertain to burden other people; I'm too scared and uncertain to let go.

What I am not uncertain about, though, is my loyalty to my friends. Sometimes I think I am too loyal and that leads me to getting hurt and disappointed a lot. The hurt and disappointment feeds into my emotional oscillating waves and so begins the horrid cycle of my emotional state. One big, vile circle of emotional turmoil.

I used to be pretty good at hiding it. I suppose that if I tried, I still would be but it's just that I'm too tired to do it now. It takes too much effort to smile and not look exhausted and burnt out, too much effort to try to hide the watery eyes, red nose, shaking hands. It's a build up of numerous factors - stress, school, work, lack of sleep, friends, boy, dance...

All it takes is just one person to unravel it. The worst part? They don't know that they're doing it. The even worst part? I only have myself to blame.

So here I am - Dezatron dismantled. Like a Transformer, I can be hard and [not so] shiny on the outside but when they transform, you see what's really inside. Except, instead of a fighter who's ready to defend the world, all you see is a scared and weak little girl. The egg has cracked again.

The BBC believes most people would have read only 6 out of 100 of these books listed

So I know this is a Facebook thing but I'm not one of those people who posts notes. Still, it's interesting and I wanted to see how I ranked so I decided to put this here.

Instructions: Copy this into your NOTES. Bold those books you've read in their entirety, italicize the ones you started but didn't finish or read an excerpt. Tag other book nerds.

1 Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen

2 The Lord of the Rings – JRR Tolkien

3 Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte

4 Harry Potter series – JK Rowling

5 To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee

6 The Bible

7 Wuthering Heights – Emily Bronte

8 Nineteen Eighty Four – George Orwell

9 His Dark Materials – Philip Pullman

10 Great Expectations – Charles Dickens

11 Little Women – Louisa M Alcott [abridged version]

12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles – Thomas Hardy

13 Catch 22 – Joseph Heller

14 Complete Works of Shakespeare

15 Rebecca – Daphne Du Maurier

16 The Hobbit – JRR Tolkien

17 Birdsong – Sebastian Faulks

18 Catcher in the Rye – JD Salinger

19 The Time Traveller’s Wife – Audrey Niffenegger

20 Middlemarch – George Eliot

21 Gone With The Wind – Margaret Mitchell

22 The Great Gatsby – F Scott Fitzgerald

23 Bleak House – Charles Dickens

24 War and Peace – Leo Tolstoy

25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams

26 Brideshead Revisited – Evelyn Waugh

27 Crime and Punishment – Fyodor Dostoyevsky

28 Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck

29 Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll [abridged version]

30 The Wind in the Willows – Kenneth Grahame

31 Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy

32 David Copperfield – Charles Dickens

33 Chronicles of Narnia – CS Lewis

34 Emma – Jane Austen

35 Persuasion – Jane Austen

36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe – CS Lewis

37 The Kite Runner – Khaled Hosseini

38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin – Louis De Berniere

39 Memoirs of a Geisha – Arthur Golden

40 Winnie the Pooh – AA Milne

41 Animal Farm – George Orwell

42 The Da Vinci Code – Dan Brown

43 One Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel Garcia Marquez

44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney – John Irving

45 The Woman in White – Wilkie Collins

46 Anne of Green Gables – LM Montgomery

47 Far From The Madding Crowd – Thomas Hardy

48 The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood

49 Lord of the Flies – William Golding

50 Atonement – Ian McEwan

51 Life of Pi – Yann Martel

52 Dune – Frank Herbert

53 Cold Comfort Farm – Stella Gibbons

54 Sense and Sensibility – Jane Austen

55 A Suitable Boy – Vikram Seth

56 The Shadow of the Wind – Carlos Ruiz Zafon

57 A Tale Of Two Cities – Charles Dickens

58 Brave New World – Aldous Huxley

59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time – Mark Haddon

60 Love In The Time Of Cholera – Gabriel Garcia Marquez

61 Of Mice and Men – John Steinbeck

62 Lolita – Vladimir Nabokov

63 The Secret History – Donna Tartt

64 The Lovely Bones – Alice Sebold

65 Count of Monte Cristo – Alexandre Dumas

66 On The Road – Jack Kerouac

67 Jude the Obscure – Thomas Hardy

68 Bridget Jones’s Diary – Helen Fielding

69 Midnight’s Children – Salman Rushdie

70 Moby Dick – Herman Melville

71 Oliver Twist – Charles Dickens

72 Dracula – Bram Stoker

73 The Secret Garden – Frances Hodgson Burnett

74 Notes From A Small Island – Bill Bryson

75 Ulysses – James Joyce
[I've read The Odyssey by Homer, does that count since it's sort of in it?]

76 The Bell Jar – Sylvia Plath

77 Swallows and Amazons – Arthur Ransome

78 Germinal – Emile Zola

79 Vanity Fair – William Makepeace Thackeray

80 Possession – AS Byatt

81 A Christmas Carol – Charles Dickens

82 Cloud Atlas – David Mitchell

83 The Color Purple – Alice Walker

84 The Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro

85 Madame Bovary – Gustave Flaubert

86 A Fine Balance – Rohinton Mistry

87 Charlotte’s Web – EB White

88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven – Mitch Albom

89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

90 The Faraway Tree Collection – Enid Blyton

91 Heart of Darkness – Joseph Conrad

92 The Little Prince – Antoine De Saint-Exupery

93 The Wasp Factory – Iain Banks

94 Watership Down – Richard Adams

95 A Confederacy of Dunces – John Kennedy Toole

96 A Town Like Alice – Nevil Shute

97 The Three Musketeers – Alexandre Dumas [abridged version]

98 Hamlet – William Shakespeare

99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – Roald Dahl

100 Les Miserables – Victor Hugo

----------------

10 bold, 9 italics.

I am actually really ashamed of myself.

Ruby

Smack. Pain. Hot, stinging pain across her face and then crash and she’s on the floor. Her arm is throbbing and there’s a chair lying on its side next to her. She hears a step and then sees a shoe. The linoleum floor squeaks as she scrambles away. He blocks the door so she hugs the fridge for protection but it only gives temporary relief to her stinging cheek and arm. Just one more night. Another step and she presses herself closer to the fridge, turning her face away as his arm extends out. Her breathing is ragged and her body is shaking but whether it’s shaking from her fear or the vibrations from the fridge, she’s not sure. She grabs the first thing she can to try to fight him off even though she knows it’s no use. A whisk. She knows it’s pathetic but, in an act of defiance, holds it between them anyway. He laughs a big, burly laugh and looks down at her, kicking the flimsy kitchen utensil away.

One more step and he’s right in front of her, rough hands grabbing her, pulling her, hitting her. She can taste copper but can’t see clearly, all she can do is feel. Feel the warm, metallic liquid in her mouth, the tears on her face, the vice grip on her shoulder and arm and the pain. So much pain in her body that she can barely hold herself up without his help. I’m sorry. She’s apologizing but she doesn’t know what for except that it’s the safest thing to say at the moment. He asks her what she’s sorry about; demands to know if she did something she should be sorry for. He asks her why she’s crying, pulls her hair, shakes her around a bit, tells her to shut up. I’m sorry. The words echo around the small kitchen, reflect off him and bounce back to her, sounding a little bit more hollow than before.

Another shove and she feels something different; the corner of a table, the flat edge of the counter top, a crack, possibly a rib, and then the burn of the plastic flooring as she lands and slides. Her forehead collides with the table leg hard and the kitchen starts to swim. The fridge magnets are playing chess by themselves while the shelf sways in a dance and why are there two of him? Oh no, God no, please no more. He’s saying something but it’s lost in his shouts and the buzzing and pounding in her head. Just one more night of putting up with this. One last hard kick in the side then she blacks out.

When she opens her eyes, he’s gone and she’s left alone with the dim fluorescent lights blinking at her silently. She takes in a deep breath to steady herself, wincing as her bruised lungs expand and push against the might-be-cracked ribs. Pulling a drawer open, she grabs a towel to clean up the mess in the kitchen. The spill of blood and dirt make pictures and patterns on the floor as she wipes it back and forth. First a red cloud, then a meteoroid, then a bird, what looks like a smiley face next, followed by a love heart and then a crooked arrow aiming just off the door.

It reminds her of when they had gone kite flying once, years ago when she could still order off the kid’s menu, and sat watching the clouds while waiting for the wind to pick up.

“That looks like a fish, Daddy!”

“Yes, Ruby, it does.”

“And that one! That looks like a unicorn!”

“Unicorns don’t exist, Ruby.”

“What?”

The wind had picked up so he had passed her the coil of string to hold while he released the kite into the breeze and up it went, almost taking her with it. She squealed and laughed, running around following the kite until suddenly the wind stopped and it fell.

“Ruby, you’re not doing it right! Can’t even fly a bloody kite... Give it here!”

The kitchen floor is clean now and she stands in the bathroom about to clean herself off so she doesn’t dirty her bed sheets. He hates dirty sheets, even when the sheets aren’t his. Everything has to be pristine so that he has something to spoil. Her eyes follow the mapped out lines that the abrasions make on her skin, leading from one old memory to the next while her fingers trace the red, purple, blue and yellow designs painted all over her body. Just survive a little longer and then I can start again.

She turns the shower on and steps in, moving under the spray of water. The warm droplets hitting her face are a welcomed pressure unlike her earlier beating. As the water runs down her body, she feels the old and new cuts and bruises that she couldn’t see; all stinging and throbbing while the water turns a faint shade of red. She dries herself off when she’s done and pulls on some clothes before crawling into bed. The pillows and mattress cradle her like a baby as she falls into a restless sleep.

Morning comes around and the alarm rings, loud and demanding. Her eyes crack open and she can see the sunlight filtering into the room, greeting her with a cheery goooood morning, it’s a new day! Her aching muscles stretch painfully as she reaches to turn off the insistent alarm and gets up. She follows her morning routine, pulls her work uniform on and, checking that most of the evidence from last night’s attack are hidden, leaves.

She runs into her next door neighbour in the hallway on her way out and before she can get away, old Mrs Anderson calls out.

“Good morning, Ruby!”

“Morning, Mrs Anderson.”

“How are you, love?”

“Fine, thanks. Yourself?”

“Oh, I’m very well, thank you. How kind of you to ask.”

The conversation reaches an uncomfortable pause and she just wants to leave but Mrs Anderson has her feeling like she’s trapped. She opens her mouth like a goldfish, hoping for an excuse to come tumbling out but Mrs Anderson manages to jump in first.

“I don’t mean to pry, love, but I’ve been hearing some... noises coming from your place.”

“Oh...?”

“Yes... Is everything all right at home?”

The hallway suddenly seems smaller than she remembers and she doesn’t like where this conversation is going.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, Mrs Anderson. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that what I’ve been hearing have sounded like fights, especially last night. Some shouting and loud bangs and I noticed the bruises on your legs.”

She freezes, unsure of what to do and feeling very much like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. Mrs Anderson’s concern and questions wrap around her like a hug she didn’t ask for. She’s suddenly aware of the itching cuts and scars, throbbing bruises and how empty she must look.

“It was just me being clumsy; I walked into a door. The shouting you heard was probably the TV Dad had on,” she says after a moment, please don’t ask anymore.

Mrs Anderson looks at her intently for a moment, worry and concern in her eyess

“Well, if you say so, love. Just thought I’d check. You should really take care of yourself, though, Ruby; you’re looking too frail and skinny and you never come around like you used to anymore. Come pay me a proper visit soon, all right?”

Mrs Anderson pats her on the shoulder kindly and she bites back a wince when it touches a fresh bruise.

She nods, “I’ve gotta go or I’m going to be late for work...”

“Of course, dear! Don’t let me keep you!”

She’s grateful for the chance to end the topic and quickly turns to leave.

“Oh and Ruby, happy birthday,” Mrs Anderson smiles, “Eighteen is a big change.”

Eighteen is a big change indeed.

The night begins like a repeat of the previous evening. No real reason for the hits and punches and kicks. Just cause he feels like it. Just because he had a bad day at work and can’t take it out on his co-workers but can take it out on his own daughter in the privacy of his home. Just because she’s still a kid to him and doesn’t fight back. Just because it was her fault his wife died eighteen years ago.

He slaps her and her head whips to the side, body following through so she looks like a rag doll colliding with the counter top. He grabs her and yanks her upright, pulls her right up to his face and she can feel his hot breath like steam off an iron burning clothes. He asks her a question but she’s not listening. Instead, she’s looking to where her bag lies, packed with what little she needs.
Bang. She’s on the floor again and can feel a slow trickle of blood tickling her skin. He asks her if that hurt, because if it didn’t, he’ll try again. Getting up, she looks him square in the eyes.

“No.”

Don't do drunk blogs.

Note to self: Don't ever blog when angry and drunk.

I saw The Social Network last night and it was really interesting. I'm sure you probably know what it is but if you don't, it's about Facebook and follows the events surrounding its invention and the legal and social issues that its creator, Mark Zuckerberg, faced. This is by no means a review, I just wanted to post something up. This isn't really a spoiler but if you don't like knowing about a movie at all before you've watch it, don't read on.

The movie begins with Zuckerberg's girlfriend breaking up with him and as a result, he goes back to his dorm, angry and begins to blog on is Livejournal (ancient, I know :P), all the while downing beer. Not only is be drunk blogging but he's also programming Facemash, an online hotness voting website that allowed students from Harvard to rate the female Harvard students against each other. All in one night. Incredible. I was really impressed with that (nerd, much? I revel in my geekiness though).

The Social Network was really interesting (although I question how much of it was actually true), especially if you're a Facebook user. And even if you're not a Facebook user, it's still cool to see how it developed and just how talented a programmer Mark Zuckerberg is.

Since we're [kinda] on the topic of drunk blogs, this pretty ladeh is hilarious and this is her drunk blog post. Lolness ahead of you if you read it. Now go!

On a side note, I watched The Loved Ones tonight. It's this Australian horror-ish movie (I'm actually not sure what to classify it under) and I think it's the scariest movie I've ever paid money for to watch. I don't do scary movies. Ever. Ever, ever, ever! I went to watch it because it looked kind of interesting but mostly because Xavier Samuel was in it. I know, I know, silly. But he's so cute (even with long hair. I had to get used to that). Unfortunately, that didn't detract from the horrificness (that is now a word) of his torture. But you should go watch and support the Australian film industry!

Right, back to the point of this random drabble post.
Moral of the story is: never blog when you're drunk and angry.

Why do I bother with a blog when I'm pretty sure no one actually reads it?
Hmmmmmmm.

I just finished a story today (for an assignment). I guess I'll put it up soon.

Making Lists

I have decided that I'm going to [try to] start/do a bunch of things next year:

1) Get a job
- So I was supposed to get a job this year but uni started and I'm not the best at time management. I got really stressed during first semester whenever assignments and exams rolled around and couldn't really handle it. If I couldn't even handle that, how was I suppose to juggle that and a job? So I didn't get one in first semester.

Then I was supposed to get a job during the semester break but I went away for almost a month...

I actually started looking for jobs when uni started again in semester 2 but all that was available were full or part time positions or managerial positions when I needed a casual position. I suppose I'm a little bit fussy too...but just quietly :P. So anyway, I'm going to get a job next year when I get back from Singapore because I a) need the money and b) actually sort of miss working and c) need to stop mooching off people :P.

2) STOP PROCRASTINATING
- This is an important one. A very important one. Less procrastination = less unnecessary assignment cramming the night before = less stress = happier Des = better world!

3) Work harder
- I say this every year but next year I really do want to at least -try- to work harder. And I also know I say that every year too. Next year is quite important that I do try to work harder though. I'm off to America in the second half of next year for uni exchange but in order to go to the college that I've put as my first preference, I need a better GPA (grade point average). I could swap my preferences around and be dandy with the grades I currently have but I really do want to go Binghampton (mainly because it's the closest school to NYC :D) which means I need a better grade. Boo :(.

4) Be healthier
- This is also important and involves a number of things.

Firstly, I want to be getting more exercise so that means on top of doing ballet, I want to start running (we have a treadmill at home), take walks around my neighbourhood, go to Zumba (I'm dying to go to a class!).

Secondly, I want to be eating better. More veggies, more fruits, less sugar and unncessary carbs, less snacking. Things like that.

And thirdly, I want to be more flexible! Being flexible doesn't always mean you're healthy but under my other catagories for "being healthier", it kind of fits. I used to be uber flexible in year 12 because I was dancing everyday and I stretched because I was aiming for things (super flat splits, penches, higher arabesque, good strong lines, etc) but this year it just kind of died. Not that I'm not aiming for splits or high arabesques because I really am, it's just that I didn't have time to do a full stretch routine that I need to get my further and my muscles kind of shrank I suppose. It sucks. I want to be flexible again :(.

5) Help out more
- So most people don't know this about me but I really like helping people. Volunteering and doing community work actually makes me happy (when I'm not being forced to do it) and I feel good helping people. Even if it's tutoring a friend in something, helping out backstage, doing make up for friends for free, talking to a friend about an issue or problem and helping them through it - it just makes me feel good and happy and I feel like I need to do this more.

To Write Love On Her Arms holds internships for people over the age of 18 and I really want to go. It's a bit of a story to why I support TWLOHA so much but they're an overall amazing organisation and it would be such a priviledge to be able to intern with them, learn and help people.

6) Smile more
- Try to be happier in general, really.

7) Make lists!
- I was inspired by this to make lists. I think it's cute and a good way to keep track of the things I've been thinking, especially if I'm going to be in America by myself next year.

There are probably way more things to do but that's all I can think of right now. This was just supposed to be a quick post about nothing. Now I'm off to take a shower :).

Baddity...

A Blog is an English and Creative Arts major's best tool for procrastination...
:D

I Loved School

And by school I mean high school. Not uni. Uni's okay. It's only ever okay. But more about that another time maybe, I want to talk about my old high school!

I haven't talked about myself on this blog (it did start out as a place for me to just post my creative writing pieces) but my mind can't stop running (unfortunately for me...) and my itching fingers can't stop typing (unfortunately for you...) so today we're going to take a little trip down memory lane.

I went back to Winthrop today for their open day. My parents were running a stall and I went along to visit and hang out. I would've gone anyway even if they weren't helping out. Going back was fun, I got to see all my old high school teachers and some of my friends which was really good because I haven't seen some of them in a while.

First up, I went to visit my dance mummy, Skye. She was one of the most supportive people in my high school life and she's still there for me. I love her to bits. Dance has been such a lighthouse in my life, especially in high school where I really needed something solid to hang on to. In dance, I found my heart and passion, I found my family and I found a reason to wake up every day. It didn't matter that Skye only taught me for one year, what mattered was the impact she made and still does make on me. She showed me the sort of dancer I could be and she brought the other dance girls and I together as a family. Never did I think that I would be such good friends with the girls I had dance with but by the end of year 12 we were such a close knit bunch. We had come from such different social groups but through dance we created our own little family and world. She just invests so much time and effort into us and our talents.

Skye has inspired me so much (oh gosh, I'm tearing up...) and I can honestly say that I would not be the person I am today if I hadn't had met her. She encouraged me and supported me and loved me and laughed with me and cried with me and understood me. I wouldn't have given WAAPA a shot if she hadn't encouraged me, that's for sure. I'm not even sure if I would still be dancing if she hadn't inspired me. Year 11 dance had been awful. She had had a tough job when she took over. I remember thinking that no matter how much I enjoyed dance, if we had another terrible teacher, I would drop the subject. I'm so grateful that she came along to pick the pieces of our once fairly strong dance department up and weld it back together like new. She's an amazing and talented person with such a big heart.

Before I found Skye though, I ran into Madam Henri. Now, Madam has pretty much seen me grow up through high school. She's the only teacher who has taught me every single year of high school. Madam Henri is my original school mummy. She was my French teacher. She's so cute and I also love her to little itty bitty bits. Our French class was also very close. Wellllllll for me at least but that's something that I won't get into. By the time we got to year 12, there was only five of us and I got along very well with everyone (except one person which I will also not go into).

Madam is adorable. She is small, has big eyes, the LONGEST lashes, the curliest hair and is just the cutest. She probably won't like me saying that about her but I think she is. Teaching me for five years straight is an accomplishment. No other teacher has done that and as a result, we have grown very close. That and the small group of people we had in our class all contributed to the really supportive atmosphere our class had. I love her so much.

I also had to go looking for my school dad, Mr Altraide. Mr Altraide is one of the best teachers you will ever have and if he's ever taught you, you'll agree with me. He is a fantastic teacher and such a supportive one too. Most teachers just teach you what the syllabus says but Mr Altraide does that and so much more. He invests so much time and effort into helping his students and making school an enjoyable learning place for them. I have first hand experience with this. I did physics in high school and when I started in year 11, I absolutely hated it. I was pretty much failing it and no matter how much I complained and cried and whined about how much I disliked it, Mr Altraide's support and help didn't falter one bit. He would help me as best as he could, explaining the same things over and over again and telling me that it was okay if I didn't pass, I could always try again next time.

Year 12 was no different (although my hatred of physics wasn't as strong). I would be almost in tears telling him how stressed I was because I didn't understand it and I didn't want to be doing it but yet, he never told me to just drop it. He would come over and give me tutoring, stay back at school and give me tutoring, give up his lunch time to give me tutoring, always be on call if I needed help, he would pray for me when I did and didn't need it and so much more. All for free.

(On a side note - I don't know why I kept with physics. Now that I've gone through it though, I don't regret it. It's actually so helpful especially with dance.)

Mr Altraide was also my school dad because he was my year 12 mentor. At Winthrop, when you're in year 12, some of the teachers pick a number of students to be mentors for so that all the students have one. They just basically watch over you in the stress hole that is year 12. They were more than just teachers and mentors though, they were friends. I'll always remember walking into his science lab whenever (lunch time, after school, school holidays) for a chat or single or group tutoring and him always being ready with some food and drinks. The beginning of my conversation with him today when I saw him pretty much went like this:

Mr Altraide: Hey Des!
Me: MR ALTRAIDE! *big bear hug*
Mr Altraide: How are you?
Me: Good! How are you?
Mr Altraide: Me? I'm great! Want some ice cream?

And off he went to get ice cream from his freezer in his office.

He's not only is he like a dad to me, he's also pretty much a friend to my family. He taught my older sister when she went to Winthrop as well and my parents love him. It's not hard to though.

I should probably also mention what he looks like. He looks like a black santa, no joke. Round, jolly, ALWAYS laughing and smiling (as the Facebook groups go: you know shits about to go down when Mr Altraide doesn't laugh or smile), always with presents (food) and always ready with his massive heart of gold. He also has one heck of a life story and testimony. Even with the really sad parts, he still manages to tell them with a laugh. I've learned from Mr Altraide that when something really bad happens, you can either take it with a positive attitude or a negative attitude and the outcomes can depend on how you take it. So take it with a positive attitude and if things don't work out, then at least you can say you tried. I'm trying to do that but sometimes it's hard. All the same, Mr Altraide is adorable.

Special mentions also go out to these people:
Miss Talbot, who was a really great support in year 11. Year 11 was probably my hardest year (yeah, harder than year 12) and she was just a really great friend and support for me to have.
Miss Haydock, who I get along with like two peas in a pod! It's always a pleasure seeing her and chatting to her.
THE DON! Mr Hart is just champion. 'Nuff said.
Burto, who I can't believe is leaving WBC! And who I also cannot believe actually likes durian?! Ewww.

Going back to Winthrop not only gave me a chance to catch up with teachers and friends but I also got to realise just how much I loved that place. This isn't a new revelation for me, I knew when I was going to WBC that I loved it, but now that I'm not there anymore, I really do miss it. Maybe not so much the school work but most definitely the people and atmosphere. High school was hard for me, really hard at some points but I actually wouldn't change it for anything. Going through all the highs and lows and abysses (whether it be by myself or with the support of the people around me) has shaped me to be who I am and while I might not like some aspects, I wouldn't change any of it.

Thanks Winthrop, I really do love you :).

Sorry about the lengthy emotional rambling post but I thought it'd be nice to thank my old high school and teachers. MWAH!

Reasons Why I Don't Like Summer

1. Insects. I really hate insects and bugs and creepy crawlies so summer is just the worst time for me. All the flies are out attacking my food and the mosquitoes are out attacking me. Spiders are hanging around creeping me out and crickets don't shut up at night. I saw a huge Daddy Longlegs in my bathroom this morning and boy, did it wake me up from my half-asleep state. I screamed and it sort of came out as a really weird strangled scale of notes because of my sleep-voice.


2. The sun sets later. This means that there are longer days and anyone who knows me knows that I like my night time. It also means that the sun's at a really horrid angle when I drive to ballet. It doesn't help that I'm too short for the flappy thing the car has to block out the sun.


3. The sun rises earlier. Sunlight filtering through the blinds might sound nice as a descriptive text in a narrative but in real life (IRL cause imma geek like that), it's actually really annoying.


4. THE HEAT.

Oh gosh, there are SO many reasons why I hate the heat. I've never liked the heat (one of the many reasons why I hated living in Singapore) and, being an autumn baby (I'm not sure how it's relevant), I've always preferred my cold days and rainy nights. In no particular order, I present to you the main reasons why I don't enjoy the heat of summer.

Firstly, there's the issue of food and drinks. Ice cream isn't half as fun to eat when you're feeling hot than when the weather is cold. Sure, if might be a good relief and it might sound practical (cold ice cream on a hot day?) but is it fun? Not as fun as eating it on a cold day! And isn't that what summer's said to be? FUN? I also really like my hot drinks and coffees and teas. I pretty much live off it during the cold seasons (which might be why I get a little pudgy...) but it wouldn't be too practical to always be drinking a hot drink on a hot day. Because the heat around you isn't bad enough or anything, you gotta go warm up your insides. Smart.

Secondly, clothing. Summer signals the dusting off of sun dresses and shorts and skirts. What do these mean? Exposure of the legs and appendages. I have some real issues with my legs and I hate the way they are. Well actually, I love and hate them. I love that they're firm and toned(ish) and strong but I hate that they're so chunky and muscly. My calves are just basically one solid piece of muscle when I tense. It's actually a really freaky sight. Anyway, sun dresses, shorts and skirts means that exposure of the limbs is necessary if you want to survive the heat. This annoys me because I've always been really self-conscious about my legs and for the longest time I HATED showing them off so I always wore jeans. Like, always. Ballet's sort of helped me get over that issue a little bit which is a good thing even though I'm still not quite over it so exposing my legs isn't such a big deal anymore even though I still don't like it. I feel like that didn't really make sense but hopefully you got what I was trying to put across. Also, there's only so many layers of clothing you can take off before it becomes socially obscene. In the colder seasons though, you can layer up to your heart's warm and fuzzy content. *smiley face*

Along with that, I also love my jackets and jeans. I am most comfortable in jeans (besides dance attire) so you can aspect me to feel a little lost and exposed without them. Jackets, I feel, have the ability to change the look of an entire outfit. Depending on what type/style/design of jacket you wear, you can change a look from look really casual to a more evening-y/night out look. You can't do this in summer because it's impractical to wear a jacket when it's blistering. Boo.

Sleeping is next. I LOVE my sleep but hardly get enough of it. I hate being in bed at night not being able to sleep and just lying there lost in my own thoughts and imaginations. Depending on what mood I'm in, my mind will linger on different things, most of the time either on depressing stuff or some story I've got going on in my head that will never come true or be written. Either way, it generally leaves me feeling pretty bleugh. I don't like that feeling and lying in bed at night awake and alone with my mind leads me to that feeling. This brings us back to the heat of summer. My dislike for the summer heat stems from the fact that it leaves me awake at night. I get uncomfortable in the heat which means I can't get comfortable (...duh) enough to fall asleep. So I end up lying there, lost in my thoughts. And as I said earlier, I don't like that.

Next, exercise is more of a chore when it's hot. I love dance and I'll do it whenever and wherever but it's always slightly harder to actually do it when it's sweltering. Walking from the car park to the lecture theatre at uni is already tiring enough when it's not blistering but when it is.... ewwwww. Imagine what it's like when I'm actually putting effort into physical exertion. I don't have a problem with it when it's cold because it warms me up but I don't need to be warmed up when I'm already feeling hot.

Finally, I love my snow and rain and curling up in a blanket in front of a heater or fireplace with a massive cup of mocha and a movie or book.

So there you go. I'm sure there are other reasons why I don't like summer but those are the main ones. You can tell I'm totally looking forward to summer...

Stage

For Sarah
________________________________________________________________

I stared at my made up face in the mirror with a sigh. My vacant eyes blinked back at me as I gently poked my face, making sure that the dark circles under my eyes weren’t visible beneath my makeup. Long, tiring, continuous hours of rehearsal over the past few weeks were beginning to take a toll on me. My earlier disagreement with my mother, though, had been what triggered my current misery. I picked up my bright red lipstick to paint on my smile as my mind wandered back to that conversation.

“Mum, it’s opening night tonight, you could at least pretend to be happy for me,” I said, tugging at the phone chord in annoyance.

“Grace, you know I’m happy for you but are you sure being a dancer is what you really want to do?” Mum answered. I rolled my eyes at the phone. Mum always gave me this spiel whenever she called. With an over exaggerated sigh, I let her continue. “It’s fine as a hobby and all, but as a career? I mean I’m not saying you’re not talented enough, Grace, you got all those scholarships after all but the money you make professionally isn’t that much and it’s such an uncertain career path. I just want you to be happy, Grace.”

Yes, it was true that I didn’t make that much money as a professional dancer and as I looked around my dismal and practically empty apartment, I was glad that my mother wasn’t around to see it. Plastered walls, a worn couch, threadbare curtains and a fickle-minded heater were testament to what my salary could afford. My gaze swept around the bleak living space I called home and lingered on an old photograph of my mother on stage. I glared fiercely at the picture, as if glaring at it hard enough would enable her to feel my harsh stare over the phone. I had framed it and brought it with me in a lame attempt at some familial inspiration but in the context of this current conversation with her, I couldn’t understand why. A pair of old well-used pointe shoes sitting on my couch soon caught my attention and I immediately relaxed, my feet flexing and pointing instinctively.

“I am. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” I may have said that a little sharply but I’d told her so many times before; I really didn’t want to be doing anything else.

“Well, I’d just hate to see you left with nothing to do if it doesn’t work out,” Mum said in a clipped tone.

I glanced at the pile of bills sitting on the table in front of me and thought about how I was just getting by but I’d never admit that to her. After her own failed attempts in the entertainment industry when she was younger, Mum had never truly been comfortable with my career choice. In the three years that I’d been in the city dancing professionally, never once had she come to watch me. Not even tonight, the opening night of my first role as a principal dancer.

My thoughts were interrupted when the backstage runner called the cue of some other dancers. I frowned and the white lighting surrounding the mirror made my expression look harsher than it was while the makeup exaggerated my appearance. I moved to find some floor space and practised some of the choreography, letting my character take over.

“Grace, it’s your cue soon,” the runner called.

I stopped and turned towards the mirror. Taking one last look at myself, I was shocked to realise how much I resembled my mother. The shadows cast over my features and the expression I currently wore under the bright green room lights was definitely a characteristic of hers; one I never realised I possessed. I instantly hated those lights. A sudden and unexpected overwhelming feeling of sadness washed over me and I wished she was here watching me tonight. Pushing the thought firmly away, I plastered on my best stage smile and headed out.

As I stood in the wings waiting, I took in the surroundings of my true home. The thick, slightly coarse fabric of the heavy side curtains felt familiar under my fingers and I could feel the ambient heat from the stage lights filtering into the wings, warming me. The music was louder here than it was backstage and it instantly changed my mood. I could hear the audience applauding enthusiastically as the scene ended and I thought with a sad smile how much more support I received here than I did at home. I prepared myself for my cue as the dancers who were onstage exited and whispered wishes of good luck before hurrying out of my way.

I wasn’t going to worry about my problems anymore tonight; I was going to worry about someone else’s instead. Tonight, I wasn’t Grace. Tonight, I was Odette.

two years

It's the day after the two year anniversary since Thailand and you were struck by lightning.
I was okay for the whole day until I said out loud what day it was and then I cried. I miss you.
Thank you for everything you did. For teaching me, guiding me, making fun of me, sharing with me, inspiring me. You were such a special light in all of our lives and I know that I wouldn't be the same if you hadn't had walked into my life.

I still remember your testimony, I still remember you telling me my school jumper was on fire and I thought you were kidding when you weren't, I still remember you teasing me about my height (constantly), I still remember you offering to help me with opportunities in my future.

I remember so clearly what I was doing when I found out what had happened. It was the last night of ballet concert and we were just about to go on for the finale/curtain call. Kirsty was waiting outside the senior's dressing room and when I walked past heading to the wings she called out that she needed to talk to me after the show.

After the show I went to the senior's dressing room to see that she wanted to talk about and she was crying. I thought at first it was because it was her last concert with SDA but then she showed me her phone. And I read the message on the screen and I didn't know what to think. I actually couldn't believe it and at first I couldn't cry. I had tears but I was just feeling so numb that I wasn't sure if they were forced or not. People I didn't know were hugging me, Kirsty and I were hugging each other. I just wanted to go home and curl up into a ball.

Megan came in looking for me (Erica was taking me home) and she didn't know what had happened. Erica did though (Kelly had sent her a message and told Erica not to tell me until after the show) and she took me home immediately, Megan holding my hand the entire time. Erica walked me to the door and hugged me, then passed me to my parents and sister who had already heard.

I got rid of my make up, took out my hair, took a shower and cried the entire time. I cried myself to sleep. I didn't go to church the next morning and I cried when I woke up. Michelle called me from Thailand later that day in tears and I felt so bad that I couldn't hug one of my best friends.

We had your memorial service about a week later. Kirsty and I went to Cottesloe after and we just sat and talked. We went and bought some of your favourite things - tea and chilli among other things - and when the sun was setting, we threw them into the ocean because that was another thing you loved - fishing and the outdoors. There were other people there but we kept to ourselves. We were all there to celebrate you. You were such a strong man of God and inspired every single one of us - we wouldn't have been there otherwise.

I don't know why God chose to send you home then but I'm just so grateful that he sent you into mine and other peoples' lives. I will never forget you nor what you taught me and how you inspired me. Thank you. I know you're in a way better place with infinitely cooler people and that I'll be seeing you again. So until then, I'll be trying to live life the way you did.

My Future... heh

What do you do with a B.A. in English
What is my life going to be?
Four years of college and plenty of knowledge
Have earned me this useless degree
I can’t pay the bills yet
'Cause I have no skills yet
The world is a big scary place
But somehow I can’t shake
The feeling I might make
A difference, to the human race.
- Avenue Q

Promises

No raindrops
from these windows to the soul.

Addison at Midnight

It was the middle of summer and I was shivering. Shivering and sweating on this hot and humid night. I closed my eyes tightly and curled up into a ball in an attempt to tame the involuntary tremors passing through me but it hurt too much so I stretched myself out under the sheets. But that hurt too. I rolled over in agony and annoyance, trying to find a somewhat comfortable position but every move I made seemed to hurt a different part of my body.

All I wanted to do was sleep. I knew what would calm me down and eventually bring me sleep but I wouldn’t get it here. No, definitely not here.

My eyes drifted open and I sat up, knowing that I wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight. Or any night soon for that matter. I surveyed the room I was in through damp eyes and tried to ignore the shaking running through my limbs and the pinpricks of pain stabbing my head. The moon outside dimly lit the room but even that was too bright for me right now. The bare walls challenged me to a staring contest and I obliged them but the swaying shadow from the tree outside was too distracting so I blinked, losing the contest just like I was losing the fight with myself.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to block out everything but it seemed to do the reverse. When I opened my eyes again, the room seemed brighter than before, the shadows cast appeared sharper and the rustling from the tree outside seemed to cut straight through the fuzziness and pain in my head. I played with the hem of my shirt, rolling it up and then unrolling it; back and forth.

The red digital numbers on the clock blinked one a.m. exactly and I sighed. The night seemed to stretch on forever. My focus wandered around the room in search for something to do and landed on a book by the bed I was sitting on. I picked it up and flipped it over to read the back. Apparently it was about a lady who tries to kill herself and ends up in hospital where she has to come to terms with herself or something equally as miserable. I considered reading it but dealing with my own issues was tiring enough and I really didn’t want to have to bother with hers so I put it back down.

I turned to the clock again and realised that only a minute had passed. 1.01 a.m. I could hear the numbers mocking me and how alone I was in this room; in this place. Haha, they laughed, haha. I glared threateningly at the numbers, daring the clock to ridicule me further and it did when it blinked to the next minute.

There was a single abstract painting hanging on one of the walls. The people in charge had said that it was for “relaxation” purposes but the more I tried to focus on it, the more the lines and colours seemed to melt into one big haze, forming a new picture. This new painting reminded me of one my mother had hanging in her home and my insides twisted. I didn’t want to think about home; I didn’t have one anymore. Not since they had sent me here.

I felt like screaming, pulling out my hair, yanking my limbs off; anything that would distract me from the cramps taking over my body, the throb and fog in my head and the hunger in my stomach. Food. Food was what I needed. I thought about going to the cafeteria that was opened twenty-four hours for patients to grab something to eat but the mere thought of having to move my jaw and use my teeth caused my muscles to seize up and pain to shoot to the middle of my head.

My stomach lurched and I doubled over, stretching my tense muscles into a position that felt even more painful than I thought possible. I heard a feral sounding growl and fear gripped me until I realised that it was originating from me. I could just imagine the way I looked right now – my hair matted to my damp forehead, rocking back and forth on this hard, foreign bed, face contorted in pain and desperation evident in my eyes. I hated this current weak state I was in. I hadn’t eaten in almost twelve hours but I knew that a meal wasn’t what I really needed, or wanted rather, to quell the hunger in me.

I rubbed my nose and it felt strange – hollow and bigger than I remembered. I hadn’t noticed before how itchy or uncomfortable my nose was and rubbing it just triggered it to flare up so I clawed away at it.

A sudden movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention and panic seized every muscle in me. My head shot up and an intense pain attacked my head, neck and back. I thought I was going to throw up. I looked around but there was no one else in the room besides me. Something moved again and I realised that it was only the tree outside. I let out a bitter scoff at my paranoia. Damn that tree and damn this state I was in.

I sniffed and scratched my nose again.

unedited Coffee

The warm aroma fills my nose
like the afternoon sun on my back
after a cold morning,
like a bear hug in a sad situation,
a surprise gift on an ordinary occasion
or a hot shower after a long, freezing day.
It spreads through my body like
hot tea filling my stomach, like weightlessness,
like a call from home in an empty,
lonely city. It's like a scarf
against the chill, a familiar
laugh of someone loved,
a thick blanket around me in front
of the TV.
Like seeing a baby's first smile,
like endless nights out with best friends,
like coming home after a long time away,
like curling up in front of a fireplace alone
in the middle of winter with a cup of coffee,
the warm aroma filling my nose.

===========================================================

We had to do an exercise today in Creative Writing modelled off Michael Ondaatje's poem 'Sweet Like A Crow' about a specific noise, smell or taste that we'd experienced. This was what I came up with, done in about half an hour. I was sleepy and I hadn't had a coffee in a while.

And so begins

the drabbles of my overactive imagination.
The url is that at the moment because I didn't want anyone else to have it. I'm not sure if I'll keep it but I can always change it later. I was inspired by Whitley. I just got home from his goodbye tour and it was a great gig. I think he's better live than he is on the album, kudos to you kid. But damn you for moving to England and leaving us behind. I shall be sans-Whitley for at least two years. What will I ever do? On the bright side, Yellowcard are back together and I am immensely happy.

But I digress. So really, I started this blog as a place to post my creative writing pieces. Seeing as I'm getting back into writing again and that I'll actually have to be finishing my pieces (thanks, Creative Writing unit. No, really, thanks. It's been too long since I last wrote something that wasn't a rant), I thought I'd find somewhere I could post them. Since I already have a couple of other blogs, what's another one, hey?

So the first story-post probably won't be up for a while but I just wanted to get the ball rolling.
Enjoy.