Goddamn you were beautiful.

I'm in a foreign land, sitting in a green bus-stop, my thin coat drenched. It's raining all around me as I sit, presumably waiting for a bus. The street lights shine, a warm glow saturates the dark, cobbled street. I know I'm not home, but there's no trepidation or anxiety. I must have left everything else behind, because I have nowhere else to be.

He appears, warm eyes, short hair, solid build. He's all smiles and gentleness. We talk briefly, he asks me this and that. I reply. I flirt. His friends chuckle in the background, I know I've seen them all before. I'm so safe.


Won't you tell me your name?

Whaaat just happened?

Is it possible in life, to just mentally push a re-set button and return to the last time you felt in control, and resume from there?

It could very well be 1AM madness but I think I just did that.

I just found a crazy switch, or took the blue pill or something, because I just erased a lot of hurt. At least momentarily.

Freedom can't be a constant, if it was you wouldn't be aware of it. Freedom is sweet because it's hard to come by. It's earnt. It's the orgasm you're never guaranteed and it's gone in a flash. But if it's good the after-effects are long lasting. (Just quietly, I suspect people try to fuck for freedom, which is so ironic because ultimately it's the biggest trap).

I am going to sleep well tonight. I don't know what just happened, but it happened. I must have remembered myself and I might have remembered life. Does that sound ridiculous? It's not, I assure you. It's so easy to forget yourself and forget life. To forget why you ever bothered in the first place and fall into a pit. This is shockingly unpoetic, I apologise. Here you are, privy to my most intimate thoughts and I've failed to pretty them up for you. I even swore.

 Holy crap, what on earth happened to that girl I used to be? Goodbye current shitty black cruel world, I'm resuming happiness and I'm sure we'll comfortably slip back where we last left off.

Mr. Ocean can have some credit. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ynVQD-b0qX8&feature=related

What's (really) on your mind?

A punnet of strawberries and a mess of tangled limbs

Why do sad songs always play when I'm standing in the middle of a crowded aisle in Coles?
I can't cry and walk at the same time.

Always choosing the wrong one

I need to pee.

You're a fucking coward.

Where will I be 2 years from now?


You've much to lose.

Either I dig sex, or I dig you naked. I kind of hope it isn't the latter.


Where there's no struggle, there's no strength.

the wrong things for the right reasons (a)

You slip your hand in my pocket to pull out my dreams. They're written in miniscule script on post-it notes, folded into tiny squares and tucked away. I carry them with me so I never forget, I carry them with me to keep them safe. Dreams are fragile unless they're nurtured and protected. They barely exist, vague whisps of thoughts we're sometimes too afraid to even admit to ourselves. Locked in the tightest embrace with all those unspoken desires.

Volumes of unspoken desires. Not only mine, but those of my lovers, the beloved pieces of my heart. The people whose fate I have tangled into my own. The dreams they told me in confidence and the fears they held for their future selves, a collection of quiet hope and pessimistic cynicism.

There's a small jewellery box on my nightstand, where before I fall asleep, I place my minute post-it notes. I count them out one by one, like I have since the day I became a woman. The day my childish, scattered ideas came to close. It was forceful and abrupt.  Those things that I had been raised to achieve I did so willingly. I was grown, directed and nurtured, a smart sapling with potential. My parents were scared when they realised the change that had come over me. They shirked into the corner, spoke in hushed tones and told me, firmly, to sit still. To behave. To be vigilant. In the years that followed I broke every rule and created my own.

When you stepped into my life, it became a part of our joint ritual. I would transfer my dreams from pocket to table, as you removed your watch and rounded spectacles with the beautiful precision that comes with a repeated action. Do you understand what I mean? It's in the way people do ordinary tasks, without added flare or too much thought. The way a concert pianist would play a basic scale. An exquisite naturalness that rids you of any pretence, second nature that's most indicative of our truest nature.

I think that's why we love young children so much, before the thought or planning of a premeditated action ruins it's purity. Babies smile, laugh, gurgle, cry, grip because they are natural reflexes, basal exclamations. We learn our faults.  I guess that was what ultimately left us naked. You, no longer bound by time and the confines of the world around you, and me, freed of the weight of my volumes of desires, my hoard of unspoken things.

Now, suddenly you reach into my pocket without my knowledge, without any warning at all. I, oblivious, continue to stare out the window into the world I've built up. You pickpocket! You horrible, terrible, wonderful thief!

Definitive freedom

It's been a long break, almost 6 months in fact. And truly, I never meant to return. But then, break has more than one meaning.

For example:
1. To break something apart- implying it cannot be healed.
2. To take a break, a rest, a brief pause before resuming
3. To break a record- to surpass something, to outdo what has been done

Now that the English lesson is over, let's talk.

How have you been? How much taller did you grow in these months we've been apart? What have I missed? I must have missed so much. I might have missed something significant.

Is your life intact? Your home, your heart, your hope?

I would have apologised for my disappearance, but I'm not that sorry, and there's nothing worse than a false apology (except maybe a false allegation).

I guess it's the closest I've come to a long vacation. It was odd, reading through these old posts and trying to understand what I had been trying to say. How introspective! How diary-like. Maybe these long, rambling entries helped me to understand myself more than I had realised. Or maybe I'm a pretentious, overly-philosophical wank with too many first world problems to recognise that life is mostly grand. But not really, I look upon the lady of my past with affection and a loooooong list of recommendations I wish someone could have told me back then.

(By the way, I started a tumblr account, it wasn't the same). What followed from February the 8th was a series of days. Days that I have attached significance to became less significant. It's a curious affliction I have, attaching importance to the strangest of things in an effort to create my narrative, to find the peak, the hero's arc in my own story. But why peak so soon?! Enjoy the CLIMB!

'Whatever', you say. It's like when your teachers told you that Senior School would be the best time in your life and you didn't believe them. They were right though, weren't they? The climb is awesome. The not-knowing is awesome. It only starts to suck, and hurt, and get confusing when you think you've reached your destination.

 I'm a child, with a lot of time left to learn myself and the world around me. Before you go on, accept one thing. Everything changes. A constant state of divine chaos.

I am rooted but I flow.

I made a concrete decision tonight. I actually made two. The evidence of one is in my wallet (no it's not a condom or a piece of paper that says 'you are beautiful' or anything else quite so predictable),  the second is that I shall write. Properly.

Farewell!

New year, new books, new ideas.

New blog :)

It's been nice knowing ya!

No need to panic.

Girl let's go
Walk your broken heart through that door
Sit your sexy ass on that couch
Wipe the lipstick off of your mouth
I take it slow.


Don't let me get in my zone

I'm definitely in my zone.





I always want you when I'm coming down.

Categories

There seem to be two distinct types of people in this world:
1. Complainers
2. Doers

Complainers are passive, pessimistic and easily succumb to their fate, noisily denounce the world and feel sorry for themselves. Doers are proactive, energetic, positive and willing to get their hands a little dirty, to accept suffering as a given and to 'keep calm and carry on'. Complainers don't seem to like Doers very much. Doers don't seem to care.

In this life I have seen much of the first in myself and others.

But enough of that, I think I'm going to choose the second option and see where it takes me.

'And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope
It's a shot in the dark and right at my throat
Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me
Looking for heaven, found the devil in me
Well what the hell I'm gonna let it happen to me'

Shake, shake, shake it out.

My computer right now

1. Videobb- Grey's anatomy, season 2, episode 15
2. World Time Zone Map
3. Wikipedia- Antoni Gaudi
4. Wikipedia- Necrotizing Fasciitis
5. Nyanja phrasebook
6. This page :)
7. My essay :/


All while listening to Beirut, who are Magic!


The world is big and I am small,
I've got a lot of ground to cover before daybreak

Dreams and schemes.

We used to sit and dream
of meeting in smoky jazz bars
On our way home from work.
Dark red velvet.

When the clock struck 12,
when we're all grown up
And there's nothing to worry about,
Ever, at all

It's just a faded dream
like the lines of a poem
I vaguely remember
But it's okay
You don't know me.

Shiver

Him:
Immobilized by the thought of you
Paralyzed by the sight of you
Hypnotized by the words you say
Not true but I believe 'em anyway

Her:
So come to bed It's getting late
There's no more time for us to waste
Remember how my body tastes
You feel your heart begin to race

Jane must have been one hell of a woman. I'd really love to cover this song as a duet with a guy on vocals. Also, whoever he is, the guitarist from Maroon 5 makes me hot.
Also, Aloe Blacc's guitarist. Aloe Blacc who will be getting a good long post in due time.

Who are these people, and where do they come from? I want to BE one.

Once again, I leave my grave!

MY HEAD IS BUZZING!

In the best possible way.
Something hit me.
Again, in the best possible way.

I've turned into a little jitter-bug :) OH THE INFLUX OF INFORMATION AND IDEAS!

Right, let's begin at the beginning.
1. Today I went for a swim. I wonder why I ever stopped?

2. Beautiful women exist. I mean, to the centre of their core beautiful. And smart and funny. And not virtuous queens. Purity is a state of mind.

3. My mum is a woman, with all the trials women have, with all the frustrations of any human being, the impatience, the sadness, loss, fears and hopes. I think we forget that our parents are human beings, unsure just like us. My mum is wonderful.

4. Sometimes, we're all so insecure and afraid, we suck. And we're mean and moody and awful. But as long as that's only sometimes and we always apologise, it's ok.

5. Somewhere along the way I found these wonderful men who have become additional brothers to me. My own brother is wonderful and his own person. Then there's thambi, who saved my life, spends time with me, talks about his dreams and fears, provides me with the world's best chocolate cake and keeps asking for a shout-out :P And there's my musical friend who is a pillar of strength and reason to me, who has allowed me to cry over the phone, who checks up on me, who motivates me, and is the best older brother I could ask for.

6. Those friends I grew up with, who watched me blossom, and giggle when I make sex jokes and STILL think I'm the smartest thing. Your faith in me is beautifully naive :P But really, you keep me going like nobody else.

7. My horoscope says lots of things that I'm not sure I believe in. It says I am prone to nervous breakdowns. This makes me laugh then worry. Which of course, serves only to make me laugh again.

8. I'm building my dream house, in my head. With a treehouse. Pinterest is amazing!

9. Decide ONCE AND FOR ALL to have an EXTRAORDINARY LIFE.

10. I watched 'Julia and Julia.' Their husbands love them so much. I think that's why I'm stupidly happy, at the core of it. Their husbands LOVED THEM. They fought and went through difficult things and THEY STILL LOVED EACH OTHER. Their husbands respected them, nurtured them, believed in them and gave them Time and Patience. They FOUGHT for them. I know I'm modern, a feminist, hell-bent on being an independant and self-made woman. But goddamit, a woman needs a man who can fight for her, tooth and nail, who'll make her feel safe even though she's perfectly capable of battling on her own. A woman needs, sometimes. And that's perfectly fine.


And this just in:
All men dream, but unequally. Those that dream at night in the dusty recesses of their minds awake the next day to find that their dreams were just vanity. But those who dream during the day with their eyes wide open are dangerous men; they act out their dreams to make them reality- Lawrence, Thomas E.

You're just plain irritating. Or, tranquil eggs.

I can take inspiration
and create something wonderful
from anybody in the world
except you.

Resent and love run side by side
Hand in hand, battling through
an endless lover's tiff
anyone who disagrees is a saint
or a liar.

It makes me realise
that at the end of a very long day
I've decided to put all of my eggs
in a single, warm, TRANQUIL basket.
My own basket.

Glory and delight

It's Friday the 13th, again.

And just like the last time, I feel so so so goddamn lucky. I can't explain it.
There's something lucky about this day- and I've always loved turning superstition on it's prophetic head.

Although things aren't perfect, and neither am I, or the people in my life, I'm so thankful that I have them. I'm so thankful for the small mistakes I made early on, so I don't have to make bigger mistakes now. I'm so thankful for the ears that will listen, for the shoulders I can lean on and for the hearts that are open to loving me and allow me to love them.

I'm so grateful that (most of the time) I am not lost.
And if I do lose myself somewhere, I have been provided with all the faculties to find myself.
That in disaster I am never stranded.

That all the little things to be angered and frustrated and hurt by always pass. It always passes. Everything has an end, and that's a wonderful thing to know. It's almost as if, if we only carried that knowledge with us everywhere, in every facet of life, we would live so much fuller. Get into a 2 year relationship, knowing that it has an expiration date and you have at least 5 life lessons to learn. Know that the time you have with your loved ones is limited. Know that we're all going to die. I know I'm a medical student, but I find a lot of comfort in the awareness of my own death. Because what we're afraid of is the unknown. What we stress about is 'not knowing,' whether we'll make it, whether we'll get better, whether our relationships will make it, whether tonight will be the thing that turns it all around, whether we'll pass or fail miserably.

Once you take away that fear you're free. Once you realise you're going to die, you're free to live. Once you realise things WILL CHANGE you stop crying about feeling stuck and start changing yourself.

Leave behind your mistakes and fears and there's nothing left to worry about. You're no longer crippled. The comfort in knowing that you're not going to know unless you try. Stop hiding and stop fighting and take a chance.

Jay-Z wrote the following song for his daughter and that's a beautiful thing.
My father named me 'Kavita' because it means poetry and it rhymes with my mother's name and that is a beautiful thing.

Glory.

Love songs for no-one

A great job, is one where you can spend 40 minutes legitimately reading poetry, while still getting paid.

Today I read 'The love song of J. Alfred Prufrock' again, after a few years.
In year 12, the stimulus for one of my essays was 'Do I dare disturb the universe?'

There are many lines from this poem that I appreciate. As is to be expected, my understanding of it has changed, just as I have.

'In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall..'

When I think of all the greater moments in my life- the majority were borne out of spontaneous action. Had I not suddenly spoken to that stranger at Uni, or nervously approached a girl from my Primary school, or clicked 'Send' on an application I wasn't sure I was ready for, I would not have met my closest friends, or be in the position that I am in now. And of course let's not forget the craziest moment of abandon- a first kiss.

And yet, au contraire, I HAVE measured out my life with coffee spoons. That is to say, more often than not, things are carefully thought through, planned, revised, written on a list of things to do, and executed. Feelings are spared and harsh words are bitten. Time ticks on. Some days the only thing that can get you out of bed is a cup of coffee, being being awake isn't the same as being 'alive and kicking,' sometimes it's the the beginning of a repetitive monotony that you have come to accept. The morning Hit is a tradition, it's the beginning of the temporal process, it's a measure of the days you have been alive, but not of the days you have lived.

For I have known them all already. I have heard the same stories time and time and time and time again with no relief, with no option of turning my head or drowning out the sound with something louder. I have become trapped in a circle that is not of my own construction or imagination. I wake and fret and feel sick and feel sicker in a cycle, where I can see the days of my existence passing me by in quick succession, but it is still too slow. There's something wrong when you can anticipate unhappiness. I've never been afraid of change, I'm afraid that change will never come. The dying fall has been stretched out too long, I don't think I can hear anything else.


Human voices wake us and we drown.

Nobody to blame.

It's just emotions
taking me over
I'm caught up in sorrow
lost in the song.
But if you don't come back
Come home to me, darling
Don't you know there's nobody left in this world to hold me tight?
Don't you know there's nobody left in this world to kiss goodnight.

At the risk of sounding controversial, I think women universally have one severe problem.
It's a curse disguised as a gift.
We're ridiculously emotional.

Obviously, this is a generalisation, but it's ubiquitous enough.

Goddamn we waste so much time talking about this shit. I mean really, who ever saw a bunch of guys sit and discuss how they feel about their relationships, or family, or individual progress over a cup of coffee. They don't, and that's why they're more successful, and probably more secure.

Men have a greater propensity and tenacity to chase their dreams and happiness without having to have the same level of consideration for the people around them. It's the straight truth.

In the meantime, smart girls, like me, sit around thinking about their futures, their love lives and taking care of their parents. The woman's role, right? To be nuturing and caring and take on all the worries of the people around them? To be patient, to make sacrifices. Here's an interesting fact. I read an article about physicians who marry physicians. No surprises, but the female doctors who married other doctors felt they had not been as successful in their careers. The men reported no difference. The only real positive was that both men and women reported less financial stress.

It's staring us in the face. We worry, check our phones, check our emails, hope for the best for everybody else. I realised, had things been different when I finished year 12 I would have potentially handed over dux to my ex-boyfriend. How stupid is that! The same ex-boyfriend who accused me of being too career oriented when I was 16... I worked at a noodle bar at the time.

And the irritating thing, the really, down-right annoying and frustrating thing is that objectively, smart guys drool over the smart, ambitious, hot, independant girls. They flirt with them, they talk about them. But when it comes to crunch- they don't want the same thing for their own women. Go figure?

At the end of the day, we can't blame men (any more). We can't blame society, or the education system, or our parents, because we know better. We could blame Disney... but we're not 5 any more. So GOODBYE to the promise of Prince Charming, to the promise of Happily Ever After and to the stupidity of succumbing to our emotions. There has to be balance and strength.

We have to be able to stand on our own feet, be logical, and live with confidence, dignity and clarity. Otherwise all of this has been for nothing.

I found a quote I liked:
Don't wish me happiness - I don't expect to be happy it's gotten beyond that, somehow. Wish me courage and strength and a sense of humor - I will need them all.

Waking up with a thumping heart, day after day.

These feelings won't go away
they've been knocking me sideways
they've been knocking me out lately
whenever you're near me.

These feelings won't go away
they've been knowcking me sidways
I keep thinking in a moment that
time will take them away

But these feelings won't go away.