Little Wet Tears.

listening to: lady - regina spektor.
reading: the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.
watching: clueless.
eating: air.
drinking: organic OJ.

it's so strange.
i didn't ever.
think that someone.
like you could.
be so very.
very very very.
important to me.

she smelled of.
daises she drives.
me crazy she.
drives me crazy.

i miss your.
beautiful alternative hair-cut.
your cute little.
ear with the.
small silver piercing.
i hated you.
but i ended.
up loving you.
to pieces because.
you were everything.
i wanted to.
become in myself.

i miss the.
way we would.
lie down in.
camperdown park together.
we would listen.
to regina spektor.
on repeat and.
cry a little.
then we'd break.
some black forest.
cadbury chocolate and.
you'd lick my.
tears away and.
laugh so sweetly.

she says i.
can sing this.
song so blue.
that you will.
cry in spite.
of you little.
wet tears on.
your baby's shoulder.

and i did.
and i told.
her that i.
would one day.
have my little.
baby and play.
it the blues.
on the saxophone.
and she'll be.
shy like i.
was when i.
was that small.
i just hope.
she doesn't run.
out of school.
seeking refuge where.
she won't find.
anything like that.

what it comes.
down to is.
i wish i.
was like you.
but i will.
never be who.
everyone including myself.
wants me to.
be because i.
am not perfect.
infact i am.
as far away.
from that title.
as i can.
imagine to be.

i'm very sorry.
sorry to everybody.
that i can't.
function without you.
here with me.

Everybody's Laughing.

listening to: because - the beatles.

reading: still nothing. recommendations?

watching: happy tree friends - season 1: episode 3; meat me for lunch.

eating: air.

drinking: apple and raspberry organic fizz.

you can turn the city upside down like an umbrella, but it won't keep you dry.

it's sort of ridiculous how music can mean so much to me, like particular songs where you're listening to it, and suddenly you're all "did they write that directly for me?" because the lyrics just apply to every aspect of what's happening in your life at the moment, and then you find yourself getting all emotional and lost in it all. which is why i happen to love german classical. there's only two kinds of emotions, fluttery flute twiddly suspense and hardout cymbal crashing anger. and those two emotions only hurt everyone but yourself, so that makes it okay for you, right?

no matter how much i love singstar, i honestly still can't bring myself to sing i touch myself by the divinyls. yes, i love her hair, and yes, i'm determined to beat either emily or relface in every aspect (btw rel, guess who beat your top ((the top!)) on the reason? yeah, that's right. fear me, rawr) of that game that i possibly can. but i'm probs not going to bother on these words by natasha bedingfield, because like, what is even going on when she starts singing about the stage? it's more unpredictable than delta goodrem's born to try. incase you haven't guessed it yet, i'm a massive singstar nerd.

my plans for sunday: go to newtown dendy to meet my beloved igs kids, and bring mary, and do a massive oh darling! by the beatles, in front of majority of newtown king streeters, and blow their minds. get prepped.

Nicht Weinen.

listening to: mahler; symphony #3 in d minor; 5. lustig im tempo und keck im ausdruck.

reading: nothing currently. someone recommend a good book!

watching: some weird sbs film with lots of naked people (nothing out of the ordinary).

eating: spaghetti.

drinking: apple and raspberry organic fizz.

it's funny how some oatmilk paired with some serious german opera can make you the happiest person on earth. i have a distinct memory of being four years old, singing along and jumping on tables, swinging the door open at the climatic part and yelling out in "vibrato" style at my neighbours, who sat there laughing (i can't imagine why, i obviously rocked their socks).

i honestly miss the days where riding your bike home in the hail was fun (it sucked this time, my shirt went see-through, my hair got ruined and my stockings clung all soggily two my legs like overdone pasta. grosss), i miss the days when it wasn't absolutely impossible to get your way in the house, and you could listen to really loud opera and dance around the room without getting embarrassed (if you've never done this, or nobody has ever caught you, believe me, it's embarrassing), i just miss being a kid, where absolutely nothing mattered.

everything has been a little delayed and lethargic during exam time (still going), and i haven't had a spare minute to scratch myself. i am so never doing two languages again at the same time. "io avevo" should go and stick itself where the sun don't shine. another thing i've noticed is parents get lazier the older they get, i mean, guys you're only fifty, it's not like you've lost your mobility (yet) and i think it's fair that if i cook all your meals (and clean up half the mess anyway) you should clean up the other half. and how is it that even when teenagers know their rooms need to be cleaned, they still never do it? my mum's even bribed me with kizzash, and i'm still like "nah."

so i started writing some new literature yesterday, strangely after a long period of time where i didn't (was probably too busy), and it seems it has taken on a different feel, a feel of happiness and sort of empty thoughts. it's very obscure and not quite how i remember my other stuff, but i think i'll get used to it...

i hope everyone did okay on their language speaking exams. :)

California Dreamin.

listening to: giant - vampire weekend. (best!)

reading: diva - alex flinn.

watching: american crude.

eating: pineapple.

drinking: air.

i was raised with boys, i probably know them better than girls have the time. being a tomboy primarily, throughout my life, i find their company to be much better. but then god gave me chelyne.
and now i can indulge in female company, without it being girly.

dear chelyne,

thankyou for the most kickass weekend, comprised of everything and nothing all at the same time. thankyou for finding those beautiful old school disney records with me, thankyou for joining kung fu and adult choir with me. thankyou for eating our way through almost my entire house, and then some (the guilt is still clear on my stomach, face and soul), thankyou for sharing laughs with me at failed romance, failed movies involving k stew being a minger, and failed excuses about why not to do exercise and how silly having breasts is, but still laughing at moviestars who don't have any what-so-ever.
thankyou for being what i consider to be the best girl friend i could hope for.

love homefrie.

my ears are blown to bits, but i still crave that sound.

regardless of how awesome it is with chelyne, i almost feel a little empty. not as much as a couple of months ago, but i sort of feel like carrot sticks without the dip (because you can't have cake and eat it, when you don't have cake in the first place), because there's a boy that should be here with me right now, but isn't. oh lover, you should've come over (ohai jeff buckley), no but seriously, you know who you are. i can't wait till december.

i see you shine in your way, go on, go on, go on.

Little Things.

listening to: somewhere around here - chairlift.
reading: diva- alex flinn (still stuck in my crappy romance novel craving)
watching: teen tourettes camp on youtube.
eating: air.
drinking: air.



and somehow i still know they're your steps even when you aren't taking them.

and so, initially that's what it's about. simple pleasures that make you happy, no matter what.
i'm thinking about:

who's the one person in your life that truly made you the happiest you could be?

and i mean, literally the happiest you can remember. and you'll know, because it will be clear in your mind, clearer than everything else. i know my person now. and i'm so grateful to them, even though things are rough, and sometimes you land on your ass. hey, it happens.

but really think about it:

could you tell them anything? anything at all?
could you always laugh with them, even when you were crying?
when you were all alone and frightened, did they come and keep you company and comfort you?
when you stepped into something new and alien, did they hold your hand?
when you were practically dying of an anxiety attack, did you feel like you were the safest you could possibly be when they held you?

like i outlined in a previous blog, there are different meanings to the word love. and i'm sad to say that a lot of people including myself really did the pooch on this one. i was always concerned about "not being myself" and "not being how i used to be". but then i had an epiphany, and realised that was totally normal. i can't define something that is ever-changing! how can you possibly know who "you" are, if "you" always changes to different things through manipulation of different experiences? exactly. you can't define it.

but the best part about the person that makes you a whole, is they love you for who that ever-changing person is. they love them all the time, they adjust. so really, humans aren't the quickest adapting animals out there, that awesome kid who puts up with you is. (that's right, they're a species of their own)

so what i basically wanted to say is:

thanks for the sprinkler kisses, the park picnics, the salmon cakes and the COD 2 battles (o hai stalin quotes), the late afternoon swims, the beautiful low heeled spats, thanks for the security, the discounted popcorn chicken, thanks for handing me stuff when i was puking in your bathroom (yes, even through the nitty gritty side of things), thanks for holding my hand when i was nervous, the intense conversations with hardly any content, thanks for treating lamby the way i do (he's totally real, don't deny it), thanks for the sheet fortresses, the smiles and the osama-bin-puppy face.

i know things suck now. and this isn't a whinge. this is a thankyou. you seriously improved my outlook on myself and my life, and if i could say this all to your face, i totally would. but i'm sort of frightened you'll eat me. so this will have to suffice. thanks for everything. *hearts*