So the resolutions begin...

Obviously its impossible for me to come up with all my resolutions at once, in one sitting, so I thought I'd spread them out a bit. I've given myself a week (maybe this in itself should be a resolution? Procrastination anyone?)

So, without further adieu, les resolutions:

1. Blog more. Even if its about nothing (which most of the time it is). It's such a perfect time capsule of words and feelings to read back on in years to come.

2. Gratitude. I'm finding it more and more important to appreciate what you have and stay positive by thinking about all the good things in your life.

3. Adventure. The biggest and best rewards come from taking risks and doing things you wouldn't normally do. When you acheive something you didn't think you could, the adrenaline rush and feeling of contentment is all time. This is also somewhat attached to my 2010 resolution to step outside the box. And I actually think I'm getting there...

Okay, phew. What a start. I already feel productive. So if I ever need a reminder of what this years all about, it starts here. No excuses.

Speak now

Or you may regret it....

Butterflies....

T R A V E L

I want to know how to do this!

Thinking...

Right now I am dreaming of my New Year's resolutions. Everyone says their stupid and silly and no one ever sticks to them. But the point is thinking, it gets you imagining, planning where you want to be, WHO you want to be. So if you don't put it into action thats not entirely the important part.

My thinking is slowly progresing and I already have numerous ideas, motivations for the New Year.

I have a really good feeling about 2011.

What happened to book clubs?

Seriously though? Do book clubs even exist anymore?

I'm slowly working my way through the local library. Next up: God of Small Things. I'll let ya know how it goes..

I love the rain.

Relaxing inside and listening to Taylor's melancholic voice as the heavy rain pelts the windows outside. Beautiful day organising my life and getting rid of my unwanted material possesions for someone else to enjoy. Perfect day for it as the mists thickens, the rain continues and I'm forced to stay inside. Days off work can be glorious.

B.e.a.u.t.i.f.u.l.

Surfing Santa's.

They gleamed on our heads, a distinct reminder of the silly season. Boards tugged beneath our arms we began the short walk to the Esplanade. Cars tooted as we walked by, our bright red santa hats unavoidable, catching many a passers eye.

Mission: get a christmas tandem surfing photo. Outcome: hmmm, somewhat successful?

And boy, was it fun. I did the splits, my two feet launched on either board, unaware of the next step. Boards flying in every which direction, hitting us multiple times. Uncontrollable laughter. An audience giggling, at our expense, no less.

We come in with a camera full of photos, the bright blue sky stealing all the limelight.

The spirit of Christmas.

As I sit draped accross the dining room chairs, windows and doors wide open, sun and wamr breezes streaming in, I feel Christmas in the air. I know, cheesy. But the carols are penetrating the air, the christmas lights fill my vision and last night I even watched a christmas movie. Voluntarily. I love them. And may be the only 20 year old on Planet Earth that does.

Presents line the base of the christmas tree, my home made tags glistening in my appreciation. Although the malls may be more battle grounds than forms of entertainment and pleasure, my christmas shopping is almost done and, if I must say, I think my presents this year are the best yet. Watch out family!

So to all (or none which I'm sure is the case, but hey I'm writing this for myself right?) have a bloody good christmas. Eat up, enjoy the presents and be thankful. Thankful for whatever you have, wherever you may be. Just be thankful.

Rain. Rain. Rain.

I love you. Just not in summer.

Social blunder.

Serious blogging hiatus. Or so it feels. Kinda felt like something was missing, like I'd forgotten part of my daily ritual, a chore. Alas, I was suffering from that terrible loss of blogging. Its also somewhat a paradox as I have been filling my day doing completely nothing. Zilch. Zero. Nada. But as my Dad so often tells me (seriously, like more than twice a day on many occasions, but good advice nonetheless), one should always give work that needs doing to the busiest person as they will be the most productive. Boy, can I tell ya thats true. I may have spent the last few days putting up the Christmas tree, wrapping presents and making decorations.

But hey, I had fun. That's gotta count for something right?

Its the little things.

Christmas shopped today. "So smart" I hear some say (obviously those who leave shopping till Christmas Eve then get trampled by everyone else who did the same). Well, so I thought too.

But apparently there was a memo that went out that I missed declaring today as the day everyone should take the day off work and go shopping. Needless to say, I have cuts, bruises and trampled marks. I'm kidding, but I definitely arrived home worse for wear (despite the clothes I brought myself, an act that so often happens when shopping for others...ironic huh?)

While I can put one tick next to a family members christmas present, the day was otherwise unsuccessful. Unless you count the guy in the helmet playing 'Silent Night' on his recorder. Now that was priceless.

Christmas is upon us.

Put up the Christmas tree yesterday and got into the whole 'jolly' spirit (no sarcasm intended), even flicked on a few christmas carols, you better believe it. Saw some nice christmas shaped shortbread in a magazine and thought I might imitate them with my brilliant (read: bizarre) cookie cutters and make some gingerbread men. Nothing like baking fatty foods to get you in the Christmas spirit.

Yesterday my shopping excursion, albeit slightly unsuccessful, let me steer clear of the World Vision promoters, designed specifically to riddle passers-by (is this a culs-de-sac situation or did I just spell that wrong?) with total guilt. Look, if I want to sponsor a Third World child I will do it of my own free accord, I wanted to yell. But didn't. It's Christmas.

Today, just to prove that good weather never lasts, despite El Nina or a similar made up name intended to impress, and now its raining. Hard. So much for Christmas in the southern hemisphere. But the Christmas tree is up, decorations are out, candles are lit and carols are flowing.

Now, to those biscuits...

Early morning dip...

Early morning surf to awaken my senses. Water was calm and glassy, grumpy old men threatening to steal waves, not so much. Almost got my leg chopped off by a raving luncatic on a Malibu.

I sincerely hope his bald spot got burnt.

Nevertheless, a brilliant way to start the day. Please surf, give me strength to get through Christmas shopping!

Inspired.

You know that feeling when you're inspired, like you can't stop the inspiration from flowing. It attacks every atom in your body and won't let go. Its all you can think about, distraction at its finest. Inspiration is where a lot of dreams are realised, imagined. Its the birthplace of many a moment.

I have that right now.

Just thought I should let you know.

Beam down on me.

It arrives as if a majestic being, its presence gracing us with beauty. It changes the surroundings so that they glow and shine, illumating everything around it. It changes the mood of others, lightens it, enriches it. It's not snooty, nor does it show off but its appearance is revelled in, appreciated, noted and remembered. It allows for glorious activities, games and all round fun.

I love the way it makes me feel, like I'm glowing, the way I imagine a pregnant woman to feel in the midst of her delight. Shining, from the inside and out, allowing others to bask in the apparent newfound happiness. It penetrates my skin, changing its surface, altering it for the better. I feel like it arrived especially for me, its attention focused solely in my direction as I feel its warmth, its escalating heat.

The sun. It has arrived. And its as glorious as ever.

Santa's coming...

1 month till Christmas eve!!

Un mois jusqu'a ce qu'il est la vielle de Noel!!

29, Rest in Peace

Here in New Zealand, West Coast to be exact, disaster has struck. Struck 29 miners 150 feet underground, a gigantic explosion with a second one 5 days later. The nation is struck with grief, mourning, sorrow. It shouldn't have happened, these things should be prevented. My heart and thoughts are with all these miners families.

Tragedy can occur so unexpectantly.

Never forget to appreicate.

Make no regrets.

Love, simply love.

Obsessed

Moving day.

The time has come.

It seems strange that I've lived here, with these people for almost a year and now I'm leaving, leaving it all behind to return to my place of birth. Its sad. I'm in mixed minds as to whether I should actually do it or not. Why not stay here for another year? But we can't. Change is hard but it must be done. Like a bandaid.

I've had such a fun year in these 1950's white box. Winter was hard, like living in the arctic, unable to escape. But as I pack up my clothes, personal belongings and furniture, I'd do it all again. The cold, unbearable nights in the winter and the sultry nights in summer, the unescapable heat that penetrates through my large windows.

Its sad to leave what you know behind and I'm Leo, I don't do change.

I know I'm leaving for the right reasons and I know that soon the box we have called home will soon be empty, we will all be gone. But it doesn't make it any easier. I'll miss the people, the location, the heart of studentville. I want to slow down time, pause it for a second and enjoy everything. The blocked drain, dirty floors, empty fridge, stale food, I'll miss it.

Looking back to the beginning of the year, I didn't know that my year would map out the way it did, but that made it all the more funner, better. I've had the time of my life, but now its time to move on, to bigger, better things. Its time to look ahead to the future and work out my next step, I'm positive it will be just as good.

Parfait.

Arretez et regardez

Insert here....

1.0.0.

100th post. How ironic. In the light of my newfound freedom/3 month holidays/endless summer, it seems only fitting that the big 100 is dedicated to my happiness and overzealous joy of my seemingly endless free days.

Believe me I like Uni, I enjoy it tremendously, even the study (which many find disguisting) but the thought of relaxing, not having to worry about essays, assignments, exams or even sitting through lectures (sometimes forcing myself to stay awake), getting up at odd hours and constantly refraining from activities (cue: Step Brothers hilarious "so much room for activities!"), all this is undeniably, outrageously, unequivocably exciting.

I have a list, well technically I have lists for almost everything, but this list is special and has been building, rapidly during study week, to quite a novel. Its a list of things to do. Not chores and errands. Fun things that I can only do with ample spare time that the long summer holidays allow.

Go to the library and spend hours picking out books, book a holidays overseas (hmmm, check), make a vision board, a collage, photography, surf, surf, surf.....

I want to make the most of this time, there's work too, but thats minor. The two previous summers I have spent in an office, knuckling down doing mind numbing stuff, not that I'm grateful for the opportunity to work there, because I am, but this summer, without office work, well its sure to be the best yet.

Shock.

R.I.P Andy Irons

Taken too early.

Love and prayers to family, friends, surfing tour and anyone whose path he graced.

Never forgotten.

Keep the dream alive....always remember.

Tell your loved ones you love them, you never know when the opportunity will disappear.

Salt in my hair, and my viens.

First surf of the season. Cold, but warming in some metaphorical sense. The contact of my body with the board, fitting into my old moulds. The rush, the sensation of pumping down the line, seeing the tip of the wave deflating in front of me, watching the world soar past, hands free. The excitement of the open, clean face lined up ahead, endless possibilties. Watching my feet dangle in the water, catching myself out that my leash is a gigantic fish, swimming around me. Paddling trhough sets, getting crushed by powerful whitewash, tumble-dried and spat out. Laughing with friends, shouting and jostling, without a care in the water, real world forgotten. It's the best place in the world.

Now my arms feel like lead. It's a nice feeling.

Malheuresement...

Alors, peut etre les relations entre moi et le langage de francais n'etait pas etre. Je viens de avoir mon orale francaise et, bien que je sois un peu de confidence, il est alle mal. Tres mal. Malheuresement.

Mais, ce n'est pas un concerne pour moi. Le fac est presque complete et prochaine annee je serai en France. Est-ce que un concerne que potentialement je n'ai pas reussi dans mon orale francaise dans mon annee deuxieme de l'universite?

Bien sur, non.

BOOKED!

Girly high pitched scream is TOTALLY happening right now. I am beyond excited. Holiday extravaganza in full swing.

Sydney, HERE WE COME!!

And still....

Brain out the window, I was in auto mode. Making coffee's has become natural to me, well, as natural as it can to someone that's been making them for less than a month. Nevertheless, I was in my zone. Chilled out, not thinking. Focusing on nothing. Unaware. BOOM. They never come when you think they will, or do what you think they will. But it came, Mr Earthquake graced us with his unwanted presence at 11.34am this morning. Lights swinging, coffee cups falling, toddler time awry with small children crying and mothers in fear. Darting for the door, my focus was on myself. Selfish, but necessary. Under the safety of the doorframe, I watched the customers dart for cover, safety, whatever they could find. The rumbling went on, wrecking havoc with my norm, what I know, what was now being turned upside down by this fury of nature.

A small period of time later, though what felt like light years, and the swaying subsided. The lights continued to swing, but it was calming, chilled. Slowly our ground was remaining solid beneath our feet. Was that it? You never know.

I continued to make coffee for customers. Isn't that what you need in these desperate times? Either that or whiskey. But as customers left rushing for the exit, the loud speaker ushered us from the building, preventing our normal daily routine, telling us things won't be returning to normal. Telling us to 'get out'.

So we did, grabbing our bags and coats, we left behind the scene of our disaster, people spilling onto the streets, alarms blaring and important looking men in DayGlo fluro jackets running around furiously, doing their best to returning life to normal, reversing the trens of Mother Nature. Waiting was infuriating. Could we return? The roof had collapsed, the power was out, the sewerage had overflowed. Rumour mill was in full blow. I couldn't listen.

But life doesn return to normal. The camera crews came and left. The buildings were reopened, deemed safe. The news reports it, and moves on. Unaware of the trauma and ongoing destruction disrupting our everyday lives. We carry on but for some, its hard. Getting over it is not as easy as outsiders may think. The ground rumbles, but so what? No, it continues, and its control-less. As you begin to deal with it, you are shocked once more, forbidden from leading your everyday life, literally and metophorically shaking your life.

Thankful.

Thankful that the sun is shining,
thankful that love is blinding

Thankful that I'm here today,
thankful that I want to stay

Thankful that I have the best friends,
thankful that I don't have to pretend

Thankful that my family loves me,
thankful that I have opportunities

Thankful that I'm here and me,
just thankful that I believe.

Stupid.

Long time no blog. I know. Things are gettting hectic-ly busy in my neck of the woods. Talk about WAY too many things on my mind. My study is lacking. I must focus, or so I tell myself.

I'm going to a Tea Party on Friday, Stein to be exact. Naked and Famous. So excited. Sesible use of my study time?

Absolutely.

Hello out there?

Dear Mr Aftershock,

I'd really prefer if you went away and never came back. Its not that fun having you hanging round, shaking about. I'd like some alone time. Its not me, its you.

Please leave.

Yours sincerely.

Get me to a doorway, pronto!

BIG aftershock. They continue. On and on they go. Bit inconsiderate really. Little thought to how its affecting the lives of everyday people like me. Ravaging the town I call my own. A bit feed up really.

I hope I sleep through the night.

Long feet, sore day.

But never fear, already planning my next getaway with my wonderful friends accompanying.

Guess where?

I'm a tea fiend.

Nothing better after a LONG day at work. Sitting in the sun, lazily catching up on some study and drinking from a giant mug of English Breakfast.

Doesn't get much better than this.

My new diet.

Tea and toast.

Break to dream.

The plush red leather seats contour to my arching, aching back. The weight is removed from my feet and they feel light again. Coffee in hand, I relax in the thought of knowing what I can do next. My hands know the way like they've done it a thousand times. They have.

Opening the cover and turning the pages one by one, I relax into my dream. No one, nothing can disturb me. I'm in limbo. Somewhere between reality and the self created dream space that allows me to escape to a place that will soon become my day to day life. Paris.

Falling into my seat each time in my work break, a new Paris travel guide allows me to size up and scope out the overall best places to eat, drink, dance, play, relax, to anything.

I escape from my known, my consciousness and enter a life I will soon own. I admire the pictures, staring at them for ages, burning them into my memory until they don't know how to leave. The blend of french and english words gifts me with a cosmopolitan vibe I will soon authentically experience. I look at the maps, this way and that, believing that if I stare at it long enough I can walk the streets in my mind. Know the direct route from the Moulin Rouge to the Latin Quartier. I read the list of gardens, cafes, bookshops and boutique stores of every arrondisement until my eyes can barely focus.

Break time is over.

Me = 0. Earthquake = 1.

What began as something scary turned into something rather exciting. The devastating earthquake that I (unfortunately) experienced turned out to be a blessing in disguise. This was a well disguised blessing, I'm talking hat, gloves, parka, gumboots, the whole works.

But when our two week holiday became three weeks and more resulting aftershocks led to four weeks I wondered when it would stop. And how the heck Uni was going to pick itself up.

"We'll have a 5 week term" they decided. This is where I thought maybe I shouldn't have relaxed quite so much. Maybe I should have done a little more work with this ample free time. But no, I meandered through the holidays with little thought to the consequences this would place on my workload.

Now, in the brunt of my first week back, I'm starting to get rather nervous.

I think I'll go make myself a pot of tea. That always seems to make things better.

If only I could bloody well train it to study the french language for me.

Believe.

I don't know about you, but this makes me want to sit in the middle of the road as a cute boy plays his guitar to me.

When you're not doing what you really should be doing.

Indulging in a little bit of Almost Famous. Kind of a little bit in love.

I wonder if watching one of the greatest movies of all time is a legit excuse for not doing my french speech?

I really should be doing some study.

Spending the day watching Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen movies.

My life is complete.

Loooooove

Penchant for reading.

Please return.

Oh so cute.

www.weheartit.com

Crush intensifying.

Life lessons.

It was an interesting night to say the least. You know how the nights where nothing is planned turn out ot be the most eventful of them all? This was no exception.

Looking back though, we all should have seen it coming. But we didn't. It was an alternative part of town, and I liked that. We hipped and we hopped, we bipped and we bopped. We did it all in this bar, and much more. There was even a man there that was over 7ft. Not that its amazing or anything. Not at all.

We met a gaggle of boys (bird related metaphor wholely intended) and it just went from there. There was even a bit of ping pong involved. Ping pong in a bar? Yes. It was up there with one of the coolest bars ever. Thats before we even saw the foosball table.

The boys were nice, but a made up birthday, a round of tequila shots and a couple of pints later, (so dreaming of Ireland right now), and the mood was..... wild. The no holding back attitude seemed to catch like wild fire. (Read: that incident. The one thats hard to forget. Etched into my mind and refusing to leave).

I didn't even plan to stay, I swear, I should have left when my flat mate did. But I didn't. Choosing to stay on with my friends, the night got darker and blurrier as time passed by faster than we were able to count. Even the aftershock inducing falling rubble couldn't get us out of that bar.

An uncomfortable night on the floor of a flat (though thankfully not winter so no snowmen (snow women?) and a walk of shame later, I was home. Very tired, very dehydrated and not ready to face the day. But home.

Moral of the story: Have a LOT of fun in life. You can deal with the consequences another time.

Seriously, heaven on a Tuesday.

I will tell you a story, you may not believe it as it is really quite delightful. Deliriously so.

I am currently residing (temporarily, despite the havoc of the earthquake) in a leather bean bag. All my own. It is leather. And the leather is fantastic, really. It is neither too cold, nor too hot. Not too hard, nor too soft. It is unequivocally perfect. (Note my penchant for using words I like, sometimes scattily with my inability to decipher their true meaning, instead inventing my own).

The rain beats on the double glazed windows (truthfully, not a lie designed to further the impact of this story). And I only feel warmth. This is in part (or rather, completely) due to the heater inches from my outstretched, uncovered feet. I am also on my 3rd cup of EB, which may be of some importance. The delicious brown covered liquid seems to slide down more easily as the number rises.

I am currently blog stalking, a little obsessively, getting carried away at this time of night.

I can always study tomorrow.

......or the next day.

Blur.

Its frustrating. It's all so fuzzy. Houses have merged into the mountainous landscape, becoming one big smudge. The horizon is hard to differentiate. Where does the sky meet the sea? Its all one to me.

I don't need to clean my glasses. I think I'm going blind.

Extended holiday.

The earthquake changed a lot of things in this city. Least of all, University.

I have already had 3 weeks, this starts my fourth.

I almost don't know what to do. Almost.

There's still daytime television.

Forgotten happiness.

So did I forget to mention?

I am going to Paris to live next year.

70 percent likely.

Holy. Cow.

I. Am. Excited.

Road to recovery.

I never realised that fear is completely perpetuating. It doesn't leave you. It refuses. A human backpack of disruption, its hard to ignore.

When your safe haven, your place of refuge and comfort becomes a inescapable reality of fear, its scary. Its surreal. Almost impossible to imagine, to prepare for.

After shocks continue to haunt this city. Out of place and unavoidable, they ravage the city. Our last total was 270 though this has undoubtedly grown since. A potential animal of destruction, fear can control you. This city was unprepared, it was beyond impossible to predict.

But our city has come together, supported each other. Arms are outstretched like I never knew was possible. Mine included. Or so I like to think.

Its scary to think what Mother Nature can do, but it can bring humans together. Show us what we are capable of. A picture of resistance.

I don't yet feel safe, the ground continues to rumble below, unhappy and teeming. Teeming with destruction. But I look at people on the street, people in my neighbourhood, people everywhere, who prove that humans can do good, in the hardest of situations.

Earthquake!!!!!!

Undulating fear awoke me. Having the whole ground shift beneath you is not a normal 4.30am morning wake up call. Scrambling for the safety of my door frame, I stumble as if intoxicated. Struggling to open my door for the forces jolting this way and that, I manage to balance myself against the frame. Aware of the lack of safety this provides in a earth shattering movement, I focus on steadying myself, staying safe.

What feels like hours later, though really over a minute, it stops. The deafening roar of the earthquake subsides, though rattles on in my mind, refusing to let me forget.

Aware disaster has arrived, it presence ever present, we scour the house for signs of damage. We are lucky.

Some are not. The city is in ruins. Buildings gallore have collapsed, completely crumpled. Central city is a war torn disaster zone. State of emergency declared.

The city stumbles into activity, people beginning to respond to what was the worst earthquake in decades. Almost a century.

Sleepily coming to grips with the event,people flock into the streets in pyjamas, draped in blankets, assesing their houses and others, checking everyone is okay. Offering help, assistance, company.

This disaster has changed the city. Completely.

It's no longer my Christchurch.

It's Mother Nature's.

What a RAGER.

Beer bottles are strewn across the ground, inside and out. The fading hues of daylight contrast the flared cigarettes, drooping out of mouths. Shouting, laughing, talking. Everything is happening fast, and in vibrant colours. Like someone put cellophane over my eyes and pressed fast forward. Girls and boys have merged like we haven't seen this foreign species in years, fast becoming saimese twins. Music blares, no remorse, neighbours long forgotten. Teens rage on, nightfall becomes reason to continue, the dark igniting energy, or maybe its the liquids.

It's like being back at high school.

I feel like a teenager again.

Did I mention its the summer holidays? Oh yeah, it's not.

As the sun streams purposefully through my windows, my room becomes an oven. I can barely breathe for the heat my room transposes. My duvet is a burden, confining me to the borders of my bed.

I rise early, with the sun. Days are dwindled by watching nature, playing with friends. Complete inhibition. Lying outdoors with a good book and a cold beverage. Hat and shades hiding my identity. Games of tennis on my friends court, over looking the ocean, the surf. Missions down to the beach at low tide. Running into the ocean to feel the cool water lapping at your legs. Crushing your body against the surfboard, feeling the movements of your body as it rides with the waves, guiding itself.

BBQ's at dusk, the sun setting, sealing in a picture perfect image. Glasses raised, sun tanned arms linked through each others, faces reflecting the joy of summer's hot, hazy days.

A sigh of relief.

2 weeks and counting until my future can be somewhat defined. Its currently in someone else's hands. Someone who scrutinises my every result, my every extra curricular. They decide my fate like they are some other worldy God. Complete control.

Meanwhile I clean, I dust, I vacuum. I do what I can to take my mind off my complete and total inability to have an input on my future. What's done is done.

I have time now. Time to breathe, to think, to decide.

I think tomorrow I will shop.

Presents galore.

I think I've gone crazy. Crazy excited. I lined everything up, in no particular order, just for display. Modified perfection, just so I can stare. Stare at the materialistic fabrication lit up in front of me. As well as the metaphors, the signifiers of what I see.

I, officially, have the best friends and family in the world.

Best. Day. EVER.

Ma birthday.

That's all.

False fear.

Sitting quietly in the lounge, watching tv. The day is overcast, cold. I can hear the tv burring away, the sounds of cars outside, people chatting, dogs barking. It was Saturday. But the ordinary Saturday disappeared in a flash. Through the back door come three cloaked figures, two with balaclavas, one with a blanket draped over the face. Identity unknown. Aiming for my shocked figure, breathless, wide open mouth evident of my shock. As my flatmates watch on, I have a blind fold pushed over my eyes and my arms are tied behind my back. Forcefully pushed out the front door, I am bundled into an unknown vehicle. Sounds being my only known conscious. I'm aware of laughter, talking. Joviality. Leaving the city behind, I am allowed to take off my blind fold for 5 seconds, doing my best to scan every inch of the horizon. Drinking in where I am, who I'm with. My every surrounding. But 5 seconds are gone and the blind fold is back on, the threat of handcuffs looming.

Stopping for the first time, the country air hits me, my smell and sound making up for my lack of sight. Two figures on either side of me, I am guided into a building. A dairy od some sort. Voices which once filled the air, have stopped. The silence hangs, like an evil demon waiting in anticipation. Approached by an old man calling me a 'bride to be', my disguise tricking him into a false illusion. A boy stops to hug me. Unaware, I obide. The stop passes and I am bundled back into the vehicle.

Another stop, more strange movements. I am forced to step this way and that, my actions are forced, not my own. But I continue. Back into the car. More driving. Feeling the corners of the road, I have lost all sense of direction. East and west are blurring, merged into the same direction. Stopping again, I am ordered by direction. I follow instructions. I do not step out of place. As if a dream, I no longer control myself, I am a puppet, a marionette to someone else's desires. Planned mavouevres of manipulation.

As the car slows, I know another stop is coming. By now we are hours from where I was before this happened. Before I lost control, before my sight was removed. Feeling cool air on my face, I am launched out of the car. Hands propping me up, guiding me forcefully. I understand not to fight. Cars sounds close by, like I am perched in the middle of the road. But the sounds weaken as we move on. Cars are replaed by water. The lapping of water fills my ears. Water? I grapple with my location. Aware we drove west, but unsure of how far, I am still unable to grasp my whereabouts. I could have been driven around in circles. I surrender, admit to my gap in geographical knowledge.

Walking on, I feel planks of wood beneath my shoes, the sound of water continues. As the hands aroun my arms tighten, I am forced to walk down steps. Slowly. I don't want to slip as the sound of water strengthens. Gains magnitude. I am immersed in the sound, unable to escape it. As the voices direct me, I oblige. Take off your blindfold, is my order. Finally allowed to control my limbs, my arms falter, slowly gaining strength with my continued movement. Reaching my blindfold, I pull it backwards.

Light seeps in. The black cover now failing to remove all my vision. My eyes blink hastily, the strong, bright light blanketing my eyes. But they adjust.

I am sitting on a wharf, three steps away from the sea, inviting me in. Three figures are apparent in the distance, safe from the chill-binding water, laughter escaping their lips as the heads tilt backwards with delight.

They are my friends.

Slowly, gaining strength. I shout, I laugh. I curse at them.

My heart rhythm returns to normal.

Edging towards me.

3 days and counting... I'm almost turning the oldest age I have yet. Will the world look different when there's a 2 at the beginning of my number? Less sugar coated, more realistic? Will it be my best year? Or my worst? Does it matter?

I am excited. New beginnings, new discoveries, adventures, sights and sounds. I truly can't wait. Each age gets better, despite my apprehension. So why not enjoy it? Confidence, beauty and development comes with age.

No fear, just hype.

Presque, la liberte.

Il a l'air que j'attends pour cette jour pour un longtemps. Un jour que je pensais beaucoup. Quelquefois il entre dans mes reves. Le tour Eiffel, Notre Dame, Sacre Coeur. Les petites rues ont suivi, la langue de francais partout. C'etait mervellieux. Et maintenant le jour dont les reves ont devenu un realite est ici. Maintenant.

Mon futur, c'est demain.

Nouvelle Zealand, ou France?
Christchurch ou Paris?

Oui, jai un preference.

Dressed to win.

Its hard when a huge opportunity arrives and you have to appear your best, at your peak, like you're the only person that could fill the sport. I have had two instances of this lately, a job interview (thank the shining star I pulled through on that one) and an interview to go and live in Paris. Yeah, live. In Paris. Like, freak out. How can I show that I AM the right person. That I would gain so much from this experience. That its what I want, what I have strived for. How can I translate that? How can I make it appear obvious?

I sure hope I can,

I'll let ya know.

Busy busy busy.

Things are getting crazy and my head is spinning with dates, words and times. Trying to fit my life into a measley 24 hours a day is tough. But soon it's holidays. They arrive like a brick wall, reminding you what its like to have free time, space and instances of nothing to do.

Gosh I hope the reminder hurries up.

Inter. View.

My interview approaches like I have been dreaming about. Days, weeks, months. Years? It's been awhile and its come down to this. Not to freak myself out or anything. A long chain of events is lined up before me, the eiffel tower teetering of the edge, one wrong move will cause it to fall. But on the other hand?



This.

Not yet. Another year? Please.

Birthday. Mine. Around the corner. Another age, another year. Plus fear. But I liked 19, it felt nice. We were getting to know each other, developing an understanding. Oh 19, do you have to go?

Boo.

Sometimes confidence comes by accident.

Hesitation

Isn't it funny when something comes to you, it just hits you, straight in the face. It makes you wonder why you hadn't thought of it before. Or if this perhaps was you thinking it?

Either way, Paris used to be a wavering factor. I was ot quite there but not wanting to pull out. I was hesitant. I wouldn't say not ready but I didn't feel like it was 'to be'.

Handing in a form that can permit you to travel to the other side of the world for a long period of time sounds a bit too Hollywood for my reality. Yet, this is the situation I found myself in last Thursday. No hesitation, pure confidence. Like this was it, my one way ticket was in the mail.

And I wasn't hesitant....plain excitement now.

Masadonia.

Who knew?

Rush.

Its hard to keep up,

in this fast paced world

Surrounded by speed,

eyes barely blinking,

the effort to concentrate

is lost,

lost and gone.

Forever.

Just me and my surroundings.

Wandering aimlessly, unaware where my feet are taking me. I trot on. Seemingly oblivious to my current whereabouts. No knowledge of the direction of 'home'. Smiling at passers-by who know I'm entranced. Entranced by the city that brings out my best, encapsulated by my surroundings, noticing the fly on the pavement, the gum under the old man's seat. The overcast day fails to place a blunder on my happiness, enlightening me futhermore to where I am, what I'm doing. Trawling the streets like I have no place to go. Others are mere drawings on my painting of life. I gasp in the air, like it will soon be gone.

I am purely enthralled by this city of lights, city of love, city all mine.

Your own way of life.

I look up from watching my feet, my effort so far to focus myself, steel my thoughts on the task at hand. As I glance upwards I see myself surrounded by bush, greenery and all that subsitutes New Zealand wildlife. Friends in tow, we tramp on, aware that the only way we will reach our destination is to keep at it. A daunting but self satisfying thought. Forcing your feet to continue, one by one, you move on. Friends surround me, reminding me why I'm here, the reason we came. I pull my eyes back to my feet, concentrating my attention on my inadequate tramping shoes, the stones digging into my soles like they're intent on destroying my feet. The air is damp, but silent. We are all in our own worlds, concentrating on continued movement, not wanting to lag behind.

I think of the city, the bustling place we left behind to come here. It sounds mad. Leaving the temptation of a town filled with activities behind to escape to a stone track surrounded for miles by bush, trees and all things green. But its the unknown, the challenge and the struggle in life that can define you, remind you who you are and why you're here. And that's what my friends and I wanted, and what we're getting. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Find the positives.

I wonder if feeling cold is a sign of life, of living, of being alive. If so, I think I'm living beyond my years. Heaters seem insufficient, hot water is a waste of time and blankets seem about the only thing that works, though it takes hours for their warmth to truly kick in. Followed by a lack of movement so no warm air escapes.

On the flip side, the library is toasty. Lecture theatres swift me away to tropical islands filled with professors and lino. Its not all bad. The mould on my window from lack of air and stubborn condensation is sure to have benefits. Though I haven't figured out what they are just yet.

As I watch the calendar, willing dates to fly by to bring summer and a sun which actually omits heat, perhaps I'm over analysing. After all, I have a roof over my head so when it rains I don't get wet. (Though technically I do as the flat has such an incredible lack of insulation that I'm practically drinking the moisture inside.)

I do have a heater which allows the possibility for warmth. (Then again, its heat is instantly sucked out the paper thin walls though still costing us far more than what our student loans can handle.)

But really, I have people to share it with. This experience. Or whatever. I don't have to sit alone, cold, damp, frozen. I can look around me and see three other shivering bodies, wrapped in blankets around the heater, hot water bottles perched on our chill bained covered feet.

So its not alllllll bad.

Back in black.

Im back. Though I guess in saying that it leads to the belief I was away, which I wasn't. If anything, now I'm away. Its just as different as before. Despite knowing what to expect. Though routine is coming and I've always been a creature of routine. Good or bad. It helps me align myself and understand what I'm doing in the bigger picture. I am a Leo, after all.

It really is too cold. The walls are paper thin, pushing hot air out and cold air in. Perhaps I will be hanging at the library more often.

Though I always have the thoughts of Paris to help...

Paris, je t'aime.

The plans are underway. As I type away avidly on this keyboard, thousands of miles away from the city of romance, the plans may slowly be coming to fruition.

I can imagine, daydream, hope endlessly for things that will never occur. Or I can make it happen. One day at a time. A process, but nevertheless, a start. One that can bring bounties of excitement and joy.

I still dream. Close my eyes and replace my surroundings. Sometimes it happens by acident, catching me unaware with its power and deliberateness. The flowing landscape in front of me, green hills and snow capped mountains are replaced by century old buildings and cobblestone streets.

The wry image conjured in my subconscious is no longer enough.

Late riser.

I love when I can wake up as the sun permeates a red glow accross the city, relfecting the hues accross the landscape, hitting the tallest buildings. It creates a silhouette, born by nature.

Its sunset.

Pitter patter.

Like the sound of a tap dancer on a wooden floor, it becomes my subconscious.
Like the feeling of escaping to a tropical island, in the midst of a bitter winter.
Like the touch of a steaming cup of tea, in a forest of frost.

Rain.

Teeth of intelligence.

I didn't really think I was wise before. But certaintly whatever wisdom I thought I had before, is now gone.

Wisdom teeth extraction is a relatively painless procedure. Or so I remember. By far the best bit is the absence of solid food for the following days. I've never been much of a yogurt and ice cream fan to begin with but by now it is far from passe. Sarcasm intended.

Though the benefit is the ability to watch movies and tv for days on end with a totally plausible excuse. A servant comes in handy too, or a relation to take the place.

I don't even feel any different. I may have two more wholes filling my already crammed mouth, but it doesn't feel like I'm missing the wisdom I once garnered.

Only time will tell.

Ignition.

Was it really a book that ignited my passion for Paris? Was it lying dormant in me this whole time, waiting to be awakened?

Was it this book that caused me to transfer ordinary words of my everyday english life into reminders of the french way of life? The way of life I could be living in little over a year. Can this dream possibly become a reality?

Subconsiously seeing my shampoo bottle's label 'expert' as the word 'expat'? Is this fate, foreshadowing or should it be forgotten? Discarded as little more than an accident, a mistake that means nothing.

But I can't possibly let it slip between my fingers as nothing more than accidental. Its ignited feelings in me i'd forgotten were there.

My longing for croissants, baguettes and berets is awake.

Nowhere to be.

We walk eagerly, at quite a pace, its exciting. I look up and around, trying to grasp hold of every sight I can. Even the sky, the sun, the buildings, the way the world looks in this new place. The way the sun shines, how the rain falls, its different. And interesting. I can follow my nose and have no idea where i'll end up. So we do. We misplace ourselves. Coming to (metaphorically) in a street we don't know the name of. Working to understand our location. We're map-less. The cobbles on the street. The shop names. The people who walk like they were meant to be somewhere 10 minutes ago. Its all so....foreign.

Yep. I love it. Ahhh Adelaide.

Travel. Travel. Travel.

Adelaide. Twas fun. We drank, we ate, we read, we danced (not actually). I felt like a rockstar, getting there as the sun was rising and then falling asleep before my 1 year old cousin's bed time. It rained almost every day, but somehow not in a bad way. We were on holiday after all. What does it matter. I tried more coffee places than i have had in my entire life so far. And shopped. We were tourists and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Where to next?

Zzzzzzz

TOO tired to function.

Who decided to put only 24 hours in a day? We need to have a word.

Adelaide, do you dare me to go WILD?

SHOPPING!!!!!!

Ummm why?

Why didn't I start earlier?
Why did I think I had enough time when I didn't?
Was i simply kidding myself to think i could finish it?
Was it reverse pyschology that i somehow won and lost all at the same time?
Does something happening once mean it is likely to happen again?
Can i turn it all around with the little time I have left?
Should i give up, consider it a loss and use the time to move on?
Or should I push myself to complete it, and use fear of failure as my motivation?

Should a project about Hitler even be this high on my food for thought?

Hmm.....perhaps not.

Holidays. Your absence is duly noted...

Not long now Adelaide. I hope you are excited. I am.

I wouldn't mind being here right now. New York. Perhaps I should make a transport machine.

No more frost?

My bare feet are submerged in the plush, clean carpet. Distinct wafts of homemade baking and fresh cooking filter through the warm air. The flickering fire omits heat like the midday indian sun, warming my whole body inside and out, thawing months of frost and chill banes. It is warm. It is quiet. I am full.

I'm home. Duh.

Accio heat!

Chill makes concentration all the much harder.

Fear not, we are almost there.

Determination was once the ability I thought I held above others but its sure being tested right about now. One more test and one more research project. I believe I can do it, I've gotten this far after all. But solitaire is slowly creeping into my study hours. Concentration is beginning to dwindle. In my breaks I think. Think about seeing the new sights of Adelaide. Think of spending days simply trotting from shop to shop. Think of watching movies long forgotten. Think of sampling coffee in as many cafe's as my mother and I can find. Think of capturing moments on film that can forever be remembered. Think of escaping my known and venturing into someone else's. Think of seeing my brother. Think of time and space and using it to do God knows what.

Maintenant!

I need an UMBRELLA!!!!

Rain, rain go away, come again....NEVER!

Christchurch doesn't know how to rain. Nope. It wouldn't have a clue. It only has one setting: BUCKET DOWN! It is crazy how quickly some place can fill up with water. It never ceases to amaze me. Our backyard was a wonderful place to lie on the grass in the summer. Invite over some friends, whip out the Corona's and a book. Ohh, but not now. Ce n'est pas possible. We don't really have a backyard. We have a pool. I parked in the pool and waded to the door. Thats right, waded. I don't know why we bought a paddling pool. Now we have one without even asking. We didn't get a choice. Because I would have chosen 'no'. yes, rain is nice to have when you're warm inside, sipping a hot beverage and reading a good book.

If only there was the opportunity for this. Our lounge is taken up by clothes that are growing mould. We have leaks. Our windows refuse to close. Our house doesn't like warmth. Either that or it simply likes to torture us.

Please, Mr Rain, stop soon. I'm cold and running out of socks.

Think Positive...

Study!

Stresseddddddddddddddddddddddddddd!!!!!!!!

La...condensation?

Je n'ai pense jamais d'hiver beaucoup. Mais maintenant je ne peux pas d'arreter. Peut etre il pourrait etre parce que ma chambre est froid. Alors, tres froid. Le matin je peux pas voir dehors parce que la fenetre a la condensation. C'est incroyable car ce n'est pas vraiment l'hiver. C'est l'autumne. Ah, merde.

Je veux aller maintenant s'il vous plait. France, maintenant. Merci. Au revoir.

Je ne peux pas aller en France. J'espere que j'irai la pour un echange. Mais actuellement il a l'air que j'irai au lieu de Adelaide. Ce n'est pas mal. Mais, different.

J'adorais aller en France. Les rues, les jardins (et la pelouse qui on n'en peut pas marcher) et les gens. La culture et la langue. Mais le nourriture, c'est a dire le nourriture est delicieux.

Oh la la. Je veux aller beaucoup! S'il vous plait mon dieu. On l'y fait!

Sunshower.

Pretty in its own wee way...though my washing didn't think so.

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday Bro! Remember its not the years in your life but the life in your years. Yup, i used a cliche.

Have a good one for me, I wish I could be there to celebrate it with you. Soon though, June. We'll party.

Love you always,

Your annoying wee blister.

Getaway

Make an escape.
Be spontaneous.
Surfers paradise anyone??

The world is to see.

So once again it seems i may be gearing up to travel. So exciting. I love travel. Especially to places that i have not yet seen. The power of the unknown has an almighty pull. I've never been to Adelaide. To be honest, i'm not even sure what's there (though i'm sure those haters will add "ahhh, nothing?") But i can't wait. It may even be my future town, so why not explore prematurely. Why not.

I'm pretty blessed to be going I must add. I'm not an unknowing being that fails to realise the majorty of the population have not set foot on a plane. I'm aware. I've been quite a few places in this world, not as many as some, more so than others and every time I think I really appreciate it. The fact that it won't be taking a massive dip into my savings is another plus, not everyone can afford to do all this travel. Its work 9 till 5. Money for food. Weekend, spend too much. Work 9 till 5. But I think from a young age I had instilled in me the power of saving, the power of dreaming and the power of determination to fulfil these dreams.

I just can't wait to add more images to my memory, to discover unseen before (by me) locations, architecture, buildings, trees! Its all so exciting. And quite soon. Something to look forward to after exams. Well, not that I have any.

I hope Adelaide likes me.

My life, it seems..

So Uni is back. 3rd day and i'm stressed. Is this a joke? Is there someone up there watching down on me having a right old giggle? Cos, seriously, its not funny. And its only going to get worse. So yeah, i don't mind studying too much. Its not my favourite thing. But not my least either.

Though on the brighter side, whoever is up there seems to have a bit of a conscience after all. Got told i'm going to Adelaide. Might even get to scope out me 'future' Uni. Perhaps.

Some excitement beckons amongst the ruck.

Fun.

weheartit.com

the best.

Individuality.

I wish could explain the importance of individuality. But it's just too hard. So many people seem to get caught up in the world of conformity, think that looking like others is the key to success, the key to happiness. I wish Christchurch was more individual. Too many people look the same, dress the same. And there is no real channel for expression. Fashion is the main avenue which people seem to express themselves though by looking around, you would never guess. I wish I could explain that not everyone is the same, nor is everyone supposed to be. Show who you are, express yourself in a way different to those around you. Its so easy to get caught up by what the person next to you is doing, but admiration comes from others for people who are themselves. Its hard to find the confidence to pursue who you want to be, but follow that, push yourself to be yourself. It brings rewards. Look at Lady Gaga.

You've got to be joking....

Its easy for some, I think as I sit here. Fingers locked into position around my steaming tea cup. Hood over my head to trap whatever warmth my body can muster. Scarf tightly fitted around my neck, suffocating me, but in the hope of heat. Outside looks uninviting. I think our flat could win a record for unbelievable lack of insulation. And its only the start of winter, meaning, technically, the walls should still be holding the heat from the last days that summer could push through. Cos its autumn now, and sure its pretty, golden leaves falling through the sky, taking their time to reach the bottom. Placing themselves among the others with an effect that ressembles a bed, inviting in those that dare to look. But i don't have the energy to even look at that, I'm cold.

The burden of potential.

It was my brother's graduation yesterday and an undoubtedly large ceremony which sparked a fire within me. Some questions arose, questions which I couldn't answer, but could simply wonder. I was proud of him. Decked out in his regalia, purple colours flasing brightly of his back, shining on the eyes of others. Igniting the green eyed monster in some, regret in others, but admiration in all. Its such an acheivement, especially this purple, I think. My Dad has the same. Purple. Hopefully, I will receive pink. But to me, its not the same. These colours may separate the degrees but they allow the degree's to sit alongside each other to some extent. And is that fair? Comparing endless hours of difficult study to someone that parties their way through, barely dragging their marks accross the line? I don't know, but something which I don't have an answer for says 'no'. I can't even explain it.

Graduation from University is an acheivement. But to different extents. Engineering takes long hours, large levels of focus, never ending brain capacity, diligence and lets not forget, an IQ of no less than 200. I'll be proud if I achieve the feat, but I think I'm more proud seeing those bright purple drapes flash accross the stage on someone else's back, than I will be when I carry the light pink on mine.

Well they certainly took their time....

I never really noticed that I longed to do so many things. Like make a collage, go op shopping, even tidy my room. Goodness. But when your days turn into one merged endless study break and the way out seems to evaporate from your vision, its strange what you forget. But the holidays turn up and boy, its nice. Did the world just get brighter? I like Uni. Don't get me wrong, but its a suffocating wee world filled with computers, books and lecturers. Deadlines, study groups and late nights. And when the break comes, its deserved. For most. Except that kid that pretends to study but is really playing World of Warfare. The girl that has a Cosmo tucked inside her Law book. The boy who is not pretending anything but is simply dozzing his head off in the bean bag chair. But the work pays off if you put in the effort. Well, so im told.

Happiness.

I think I could possibly be the luckiest girl. Just a suggestion. But really, its the thought that counts. And when that thought includes chocolate, wow, score. I got the biggest easter basket full to the brim with tasteful deliciousness that I will engulf. From my brother. Not only did the presentation take me to another whole world completely, a world where I solely existed, somewhat like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, minus the oompa loompa's and well, Charlie. But it was that kinda of evangelical escape. Confused with choice by my sudden overloading of calories, I couldn't believe it. My luck? No, its not luck. Its past luck, its outdone it. I have the best brother. Shame about his sister huh?

Breathe....

The silent chaos is deafening. Stress is bubbling over the edge like Bad Jelly the Witch's evil potion. Focus is impossible. Out of the question. The library is like a dungdeon of torment. Stacked books hiding bowed heads. Walking into the Loft is like stabbing yourself with a knife. But as I walk out, the sun starts to shine and my heart starts to beat. I hadn't even noticed that it had stopped. I guess that's what studying does to you. Removes you from reality. Grabs you from behind until you can no longer see the way out. But as the looming box approaches I feel my feet pick up speed. My knees bend in a rhythm that appears as skipping. As my wad of paper flops into the box my life regains colour like that Reese Witherspoon movie on E. The black and white which once dominated my vision is gone. Where? Who knows. But I can bet on it being back. Not long away too. My next essay is due in a week.

Peddle, peddle, peddle.

They flash past too fast. My eyes can't keep up. Darting from side to side like a Federer - Nadal match. My vision starts to swirl and I look up to keep my balance. Buildings, trees, people, even that old man that sits on that stool. Waiting for the bus that will never come. The sound I love so much, school shoes hitting the gravel pavement like a dog chasing a bone. No thought of others. Single minded to the point of recklessness. An old lady riding a mobility scooter. Does she know its not a 1950's Harley? A couple with a baby that is crying like it just found out Santa isn't real. A Uni student that didn't make it home the night before. Suddenly the world becomes a giant present. Gently it is unwrapped. The blinding light sears my eyes and my wrinkles wake to consciousness. I am back. And biking. Its the morning routine, of course.

Brrrrr.

As I sit here, chewing on my pencil and gathering my wild thoughts with eagerness to develop them into a somehow readable descripton, i realise its almost Easter. The time of the egg. Chocolate, that is. Even a 3 week break to fill the silence of study. Of concentration. WAY too much of that. Or so I tell my mum. I can't wait to frolick in the fields, eat sandwiches in our garden...or rather, our grass patch. To shop, op shop perhaps. Recollect my thoughts, grab them from wherever they have been hiding from each other and reassemble them. Maybe not in the same pattern as before.

But I can't deny what these holidays symbolise. Winter. That frosty demon that continues to sneak up on us. Well, to be brutally honest, I dont think this particular demon ever left. Its 12 degrees. Snowman anyone?

Creativity.

I always wonder. What would happen? What would it to be if everyones juices just stopped flowing? All creativity was lost. Sometimes I think I almost don't need to wonder. I don't like the idea of school in that way. Constant vigilance. Or something like that. Manipulation of minds to form a mainstream ideal. I think I was targetted by that a little. Who knows? What would happen if a 5 year old drew a picture only to be told that it was the wrong picture. He couldn't draw a house. It was the day to draw an aeroplane. That was all. Loss of creativity is too easy to forget, to lose trace of. So don't. Simply, don't.

Unknown.

It is compelling. I am writing this, unbeknown to you. I am in my position, revelling, writing this and having a gay old time. Yet you can read this, and not know. Not have a clue. Nor do I know where you are as you read this. How compelling. My mum used to say she had eyes in the back of her head. But really, I dont think she does. If so, is she watching me? Does she read this, knowing exactly how it came to being? Boring. The power of the unknown is the best. Unknown? Translation: fear.

Pardon.

C'est difficile, j'ai decidé. Alors, s'il vous plait excusez moi pour les erreurs qui j'écrirai. Souvent puisque je ne peux pas ecrire avec les pronounciation. C'est tres difficile trouver le 'é' etc. égal. C'est trop de francais pour aujourd'hui. Je suis allée a la classe du francais toute la journée. Maintenant je suis tres tres fatigee. Mais c'est un petit peu pour dormir. Peut etre je penserai en francais. Oui, c'est bon.

Did you know....

Diversity of language is somehow intriguing. I think the Mad Hatter was actually leaps and bounds ahead of the rest of us, despite his many perculiar centricities. For he, himself, made known syntagms. Order of words. I see what I eat. I eat what I see. Miles different. And somewhat confusing to confuse. You know?

88 years young.

88 seems like a lot of years to hang round on this planet. I only point this out because my grandma just reached this milestone. Nice family dinner, just the close fam with good discussion. You can't go wrong with family, i've discovered. Its funny how you get pushed together with some people and you just bond. You fit. Not like a glove, thats suffocating. Like an old pair of jeans. They're a bit loose but they just feel so comfortable, like you don't want to take them off.

It occured to me that my grandma is a pretty cool lady. Shes not dribbling. We didn't celebrate her birthday round a hospital bed. We didn't all eat green mush cos thats her diet. It was a nice dinner and dessert. Thai (for those who were intrigued.) Its funny how older people spend their life reminiscing while younger people (I'll pop myself in this bracket) spend their time planning upcoming adventures, thinking about the future, their missions, wishes, dreams. My grandma is special beyond belief. But by Joe, she's had a good life. Long too. And she deserves it. Every time I'm around her I relish her wisdom. I swim in it, soak it up. And I don't ever want to let it go. Cos its special.

Its funny how shes lived an amazing life but all she wants to do is make sure mine is better than hers. Whats with generation Y. All this selfishness. She doesn't have to worry about me doing what I want. Its in my generation to put myself first. What a hiccup, Gen Y. Shes the living epitome of catering to others needs before your own. Now I want to follow her though. Follow the ship that she first sailed. Travel, she tells me. Go. Travel. So I will, Nana.

Next year: France. And I mean it. Entirely. I will make this happen. Not tomorrow, now. Right now. For me AND for you.

Happy Birthday, Nana. I love you.

Getting lost is sometimes so much better than being found.

I really can't wait to travel. I don't mean Hanmer. Or Australia for that matter. Too close. To me, the defintion of travelling is more really escaping what you know. I know Australia. However, I don't know France, Greece, Italy, Austria. These places I really don't know. I work to travel. I save to travel. And I dream about travelling. It excites me. And why not do what excites you? I can't wait to get lost in an unknown environment that tricks you into thinking you know it after awhile. But then catches you unaware. And you're lost again. I can't wait to escape that harsh reality of working that I'm even yet to encounter. But why not start while your ahead huh?

Rubbish Bags.

Its not like we had nothing to do. Plenty, in fact. People were everywhere, rowdy. But we decided an adventure was needed, so we left. Out the door, gravel driveway behind, we went on. The minute we saw them, we wanted to help, they looked lonely. So we helped. The wanted comfort, shelter, warmth. Trees fitted this description perfectly. Next morning, driving on, we looked back at what we had done. Pride was shining off the treetops, along with the big green bags of goodness knows what.

Dream.

I dreamed a dream. No biggie, just a dream. It was 11th September 2001 all over again. I was there. Not really, but my dream told me I was. I watched from afar. But I was close. Floating somehow, as you often do in dreams. I don't even know how I got there. But all of a sudden I was watching it all unfold. Right in front of me. People panicked and smoke engulfed everything. Even in my area, high above everything, it became diffiult to see. It was less screaming and more bewilderment. Disbelief. The emergence of something that had not yet prevailed on earth. The birth of a new fear. A small box took the place of the buildings. And I was inside in, plummeting. A lift, I realised. But barely, and not for long. Descending downwards too rapidly to comprehend. Lifeless bodies flew upwards, including mine. I wanted to lie on the floor. Like my brother told me.

But I awoke to a ticking. Bloody wood beetle in my door.

Travel one day, return another

I always thought I would like to live in the 70's. Bright flowery patterns covering every surface and those mullets and flares that everyone seemed to sport. It seemed like the time when rebellion for freedom really took flight. The time when you spent weekends doing protest marches and holding your cigarette (not necesarily tobacco) high in the air. And that was kind of Hanmer. Not just because of the mismatched wallpaper and schizophrenic antique furniture. But because we were free. Literally. We were encompassed by wide expanses of land, miles from our home and homework free. It was all playing cards and hot pools (again, other worldly). And it was eating. Savouring fish'n'chips and pies. Walking the quaint streets and scaring the locals. Creating noise amidst the tranquility of silence. But we're students. What else are we supposed to do? Drink? Check. Oh yeah, study.

Home.

Eating is just so nice. Its filling, literally, but metaphorically. Like filling a gap. So is going home to eat. Like that gap just got so much smaller. Food tastes better. The air is lighter, less dirty. Or maybe thats a side effect of moving down. From a hill to the flat, the city. And people. So many people. But sometimes clean air is boring. Ask Japan.

Flatting.

The fridge is actually full. Its not even baked beans that are a week old for dinner. Its like a two course meal. And a movie. I dont even feel like a student cos its...luxury. For a student. We even have a flat screen tv, thats bigger than a shoebox. No way, I hear you cry. Im lucky, for sure. Its even a neighbourhood, a community. No kids on bikes and playing tag. More like students everywhere. Beer in hand. Nightly trips to Liquorland. That sort of thing. Its funny. Change. Growing up. Dreading the day that you got excited by kicthen utensils but it comes around swiftly. Before you have time to think about it a second time. Where did that year go? Gone. Like skimming stones accross the lake on holiday. And it sinks. Before you know it. Gone.

But flatting's not that. Its night times of fun. Not partying even. Just fun. Dishes. Washing. Dinner. Cleaning. But fun. Its funny what people can make you become. Make you think. Its good.

I travel, therefore I am.

Christmas shows in March. Interesting. But one can't deny, nonetheless entertaining. I never quite understood how programming worked anyway. So Hanmer. It seems appealing, leaving town, experiencing wonders of somewhat 'other-worldly' destinations. (Read: Hot pools.) Meeting new people and all that jazz. In fact I can't wait. I never quite understood the whole 'study all weekend' thing anyway. Personally I get more work done when I have been busy. Maybe the saying should go "more play, more work". Though that saying could be made up. Maybe I am the next T.S. Elliot or what not. Creating all these sayings out of mid air. A glass of wine and a weekend out of the hot smoke is inticing. In fact right now I can't think of anything better. Though a nice roast chicken on this cold March day wouldn't go a miss either. Like honey on toast.