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.