nothing he said I regarded as commonplace.

This was a delightfully divine insight. Something about a defiance to the fly-screen of composure we wear as we do daily living.  A rawness and unashamedness of… I feel refreshed and challenged. I want to cry and I want to laugh. I want to teach and I want just to watch. I want to be done with these papers that tell me I just passed and that my essay writing is average. I want to write stories. I want to inspire you. 

I want not to be confined to the gravitational pull of logic or common sense. I want to free from storage, creativity, and dare you to grow some.  Because I’m allowed to make mistakes. I’m allowed to be ambitious. Darn this, now I just want to fly through streets discovering the beauty in everything, everyone (to the negligence of two assignments). Dream dream dream! They are no commonplace things in dreams!

I recommend also another 20minutes. Thank you golden girl, only you would’ve sent me such a link, which I thorouhgly enjoyed! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iG9CE55wbtY

the sunlight made me dance

The glint of blinding reflections danced along the stem of the fork in manageable quantities. 
I heard the sunlight ask for music,
and then it asked for me.
So I danced with the fork in the sunlight.
How could this be? You did not see?

but every time he was about to form the words on his lips, his courage failed him.

“Oh, if only, he kept telling himself, if only he could do something tremendous like saving her life or rescuing her from a gang of armed thugs, if only he could perform some great feat that would make him a hero in her eyes. If only…

The trouble with Mrs Silver was that she gave all her love to somebody else, and that somebody was a small tortoise called Alfie.”

extract from Roald Dahl's ESIO TROT (1990). p.11-12

Oh I’ve found the fiddle button! How’s this for emphasis?

“But wisdom is proved right by all her children.”

Jesus, Luke 7:35, Bible.

How do you like me now?

I’ve just had the most ridiculous idea. I am about to name as many unattractive qualities about myself which I will then disregard and begin tomorrow better, having identified the stupid things about myself, not to complain about, but to realise so that they can’t get to me. I also need such reminders to humble and get over myself and to also see how petty these weaknesses, insecurities and idiosyncrasies really are.  I’m not fishing for compliments or beating myself down. I’m actually just amusing myself and/or procrastinating.

“Hello, I’m Nikki”, well I tell that to people, which is a lie, my name is not Nikki, but I do like the name. I have pimples on my forehead and my teeth aren’t completely white, they’re a little crooked actually – because I hardly wore my retainers after my braces were removed.  I learned the piano for 10 years (up to grade 8, classical) and then almost completely unlearned it, now I know what keys are what, can play a few scales, the rugrats theme and chopsticks, but not much more.  I say every year how I’ll try better at my studies and convinced myself that this year I would pride myself with all honours and high distinctions. My first assignment was one day late, the second- ten days late, and the current one…tomorrow will be two days late. I am probably unhygienic. I shower usually every 3 days; on a “clean week” I might take five showers and on an apathetic week, perhaps one or two – but I change my underwear and brush my teeth twice a day.  My feet smell really bad on wet days if rain gets into my shoes.  I have this belly that I’ve become skilled at disguising but when I don’t, I may appear to be five and a half months pregnant. Sometimes I have ingrown toenails, and I know this when I’ve neglected cutting them for a while and my toes start to hurt. I’m not very tidy and I’ve had to kill a few spiders in my room lately.  I only just got a job a week ago after about thirteen or fourteen months of unemployment. I am overly keen meeting new people when I can’t even keep up with my current friends. I try to fight for the sake of an argument and because I like people to know I have an opinion, especially during controversial topics in class or when hearing another suggestion.  I dress oddly and my face has gotten a little wider since…I don’t know, it depends what dates the photos you might compare me to display. I am an emotional eater and laugh embarrassingly loudly. Oh! I have a heavier than usual case of dandruff. I confront people when it may be none of my business and give hypocritical advice. I care too much. I care too little. I can’t seem to balance out the bouts of depression and doom with the unrealistic hilarity of particular joys.  I think anyone which a blog with photos on it and a good hand at writing is my hero. My shoulders knot up lots, they’re usually tense and quite broad (I used to swim).  Sometimes I just don’t see friends in a while to see if they miss me or if they care (I’m a brat like that). I like to make friends with backpackers and get my 2-cents in because I like the thought of being liked, even if only for a few days, a month, whatever. I have the annoying compulsive insistence that people should like me (except for possible authoritative figures which I like to fight).  Sometimes when I laugh, I fart.  I buy a lot of books but I never read them; I just think they look cool, and because I want to look cool I buy things that look cool so I might look cool having cool looking things.  I hoard things, even cardboard boxes, chocolate wrappers and “ugly” sunglasses. I try to look skinny even though I tell everyone I don’t care about magazine conventions of beauty.  I borrow things from people I don’t see often and dont return said items because I don’t go out of my way to see these people and we both forget I have them (I’ve borrowed books from Daryl, Elliot, Kaiwin & Mish; a tiara and dress from Peng; white formal gloves from Judo, and Brad left his 70’s cds at my place 2 years ago…there could be more).  I procrastinate most important things, even the things I’m passionate about, or that I think I’m passionate about.  I lose things a lot. I expect too much from people I claim to love.  I’m a sucker for sweet talkers and note-writers. I judge people all the time. Sometimes I tell God things that I don’t mean.  I tell everyone I’ll start something ambitious, but hardly do much about it. I love the feeling of running, but I don’t run.  I’m an experienced irrationalist.

I think that’s enough. This is me. This is the me that I’m going to improve. Oh, yet another ambitious idea!

Dear God, thanks for loving me regardless.  You’re amazing. You give me people who love me who far surpass my abilities, dreams and passions. You give me joy by making beautiful things, beautiful people. You forgive me of my stupidities and hypocrisies. Thank you for love. Thank you for life. Thank you for change.

i don’t like your face…book.

ATTENTION: Facebook now has a NEW PRIVACY setting called “Instant Personalization” that shares data with non-Facebook websites and it is automatically set to “Allow.” Go to Account>Privacy Settings>Apps and Websites>Instant Personalization, and uncheck “Allow”.  BTW (and very…importantly!) if your friends don’t do this, they …will… be sharing information about you.

Tell your friends, spread the news, start a riot.

Might as well ‘Edit Settings’ while you’re there and uncheck every other box. I’m not sure what it allows, but I just disallowed it.  Oh, who cares – what’s privacy worth nowadays anyway? It’s an unfortunate impossible, unless you are a hermit/recluse/fugitive/anti-technology jungle hippy/unregistered at birth/incorrectly declared dead. At least one other knows who you are and can see or know what you’re doing… Right. Now.

beautiful stranger

10pm at Frank Tate, I sit in the far right corner from the entrance. I had occupied the leather lounge swivel one-seater for two hours prior, and then left to relieve myself and allow recess to my square eyes. Upon return, I retrieved my bible from amongst my infestation of “stuff” and sat under the lamp a meter away for it gave brighter exposure to the thin pages I sought comfort from. Although I had mother’s ipod playing in both ears, I noticed (without acknowledging) the man who sat on the yellow fabric swivel one-seater (two feet from my one-seater) pack up and walk around the back of me and leave. I didn’t bother anything about it and I finished reading chapter 14 in the book of Mark.

I returned to my seat and found gold on top of my closed laptop. It was the torn edge of a leaf of notebook, on which was written (in the warmest possible capitals) “GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR DYSLEXIA ESSAY!!!”. Yes, the three exclamation marks seemed to jolt me back into motivation.

It would take a highly unobservant or preoccupied somebody not to gather from my furrowed brow, consistent typing and collection of books titled ‘Dyslexia’  – which I had strewn on the floor around my seat, that I was writing an essay regarding dyslexia. But it was a nice specific, just so that I knew the note was for me and not accidentally left on the wrong friend’s stuff.

I think it takes a brave and beautiful stranger to leave such stimuli for smiles for another stranger.

Thank you, beautiful stranger. You have validated my ridiculous idea of remaining at university until 2am, then finding shelter for a handful of hours before returning again. I will look out for you next time, so I can thank you for your well-wishes! Wear a white shirt and slacks again so I can recognise you. You made my night.  I hope another stranger makes yours.

Abba, you send me love and I accept. Thankkkkk yoouuuu!

dreams of finishing

I much rather study people.

They’re prettier than paper.

So I’m wondering what I might do between 2am and 7am if I decided to stay at uni overnight. If I go home my progress will plateau. Frank Tate apparently closes at 2am and opens at 7am…I was hoping to sleep there. Maybe I will. Anyone care for overnight ridiculousness?

ps: Morning! Why did you leave without taking some of the assignment? I’ve been reduced to a child, wanting so much to be brave enough to cry in front of everyone here. Smile, I’m loosing my mind.

opposite of diligent

I just submitted a 40% assignment 10 days late…so i get 30% deducted from 40%…that leaves a maximum 28% towards the over mark.

I’m not going to get all twenty eight percents.

I’ll eat KFC now.

qualifying pride

Today I was confronted with the observation that most of my kids had an alarming amount of pride for their age.  It was as if there was a quota of pride required for a comfortable existence…OR the comfortable existance had led to such a noticeable quantity of pride. I’m talking about the pride that refuses simply to ask for something and rather make a big deal and then walk away without desired item for the sake of sticking to one’s guns, even if that gun is a cap gun, with ability only to make noise in a small puff of smoke.  Because apparently people have the rights to do whatever the heck they like, because…just because.

Have we really taught our children that the best survival technique and the most efficient wave to ride in life is the one that gratifies how much better or more deserving we are than others?  Beauty conventions, “because you’re worth it”s, narcissistic popularity, early sexualisation, apathetically ‘cool’ parents, “hey don’t – it’s mine, get your own” and warped perceptions of ‘cool’ are eating away at the hearts of children so that by the time they’re teenagers of comfortable lifestyle…goodness knows.

Can generosity only be afforded by the rich? Is chivalry dying? Is gentleness only for the weak? Do I love you because we had sex?  What do I get out of it? Don’t they want to fix this and just apologise already?  Would you tap that?  Am I only established if I own lots of things susceptible to fire?
IS THIS WHAT WE’RE MODELLING?? Oh Heaven, come quickly, we’ve ended our own lives.

Dear God, how do I unteach ugly habits and model the valiant characteristics you desire to surface in the human race? We’re quite clearly disgusting.

ps: we raised $500 for Compassion last night. A little step to a big change. Thank you beautiful, beautiful people for contributing in both labour and funds! You’ve made a world of difference!

you are a radar detector

We cruise the neighborhood
But it's not supposed to feel this good


You are a radar detector
I drive 1,000 miles an hour
I won't go on and on
But you are always looking out for me

because

You are a radar detector You are a radar detector You are a radar detector You are a radar detector You are a radar detector You are a radar detector You are a radar detector You are a radar detector You are a radar detector You are a radar detector You are a radar detector You are a radar detector You are a radar detector You are a radar detector You are a radar detector You are a radar detector

You are a radar detector
	

dear miss pretty

Dear Miss Pretty, your blog makes me scream on the inside. You’re very pretty and very talented and I’m trying not to be jealous. Also, you’re etsy is much more established and professional than mine will ever be! I like this jumpsuit. I like you.

Breathe.

Sometimes I sit outside on a beautiful day and on the really wishful days, I imagine camouflaging into the scenery. Hence if the scenery is beautiful, and if I become part of the scenery, I am therefore beautiful. I love logic, when it goes my way!

trivia night

She insisted on lighting up before we left the Maccas car park and I tried to protest, but after a year or so having returned to menthols, she had become apathetic about considering my loathe for cigarettes.  I had settled into the passenger’s seat but I climbed over the gear box and took the driver’s seat. The door was open and she leant on the commodor parallel to hers; her default conversations ensued.  But this time, I had heard her drunk misadventures and repeat stories for 3 hours and had tired of tolerating them – now I was interrupting and trying to make my irritation evident.  I had abandoned subtle attempts at meaningful conversation and was now bombing interruptions of abrupt and confrontational questions.

Defenses started to rise as my insistence on confrontation persisted.  I was desperately trying to identify the stubborn pea under thick superficial mattresses that so withheld comfort and peace from a princess close to me.  We burrowed through so many questions we could have organised a trivia night.  Yet, though we were nearly yelling at each other trying to force our understandings down the others’ throat I felt a welling serenity. I’ve found her again. We’re being honest again. We’re not playing “good” again. The engine was off as soon as we arrived before my driveway and there she beat against the house that I’d built.  There, she questioned my existence, my reasons, my beliefs and understandings. There, she dared me to defend my God and “his absence”.  We provoked each other to thought and forced times of frantic consideration having caught ourselves in a friendly fire of such heavy divergence.

Tonight confirmed that she is mine to love, and I am hers to question.  She stood her ground and made sure to shake mine up a little.  Why do I live like this? What am I trying to achieve? Why did God do this? Why didn’t God do that? I felt my theology and justifications were a tad hollow and now needed much filling.  “This conversation is not over!” she beckoned after me, “I wasn’t ready for this, next time I’ll bring my A-game”. I smiled, “Nor I, I wasn’t ready for this. Likewise”. Closing the car door we exchanged brow-furrowed “I LOVE YOU”s and parted ways no-doubt with minds abuzz.

My hair and dad’s jacket smell of smoke. My foundations are in need of more concrete.

I have no excuses, I should’ve been ready. I need to have these answers on hand and in heart. Why am I a Christian and why do I fill my commitments with church stuffs? Am I truly aware of salvation, how, why, now?  What are my understandings of His nature and how do I justify living (or seeking to live) for such a God?  How long will I procrastinate appropriating actions to prove God’s love for those within my vicinity? Who, when, what, why? How, how, how? WWJD?

Will I finish last Friday’s assignment tomorrow and will I get a pass for it?

Last week’s weakness

“Are you devoted?”
Whispered he to me
My imaginary critic gloated
Yet I nodded shamefully

“I knew you were good for me,
But I couldn’t resist.
The temptations I’ve fallen for
Have compromised this.”

With a finger to lips
He quietened my sighs
He lead me away
From accusing eyes

He dusted off my shoulders
The settled guilt
Apparently unaffected
By failings I daily built.

“You’ve not the time
For feelings of inadequacy
I chose you for a reason
You’re part of my strategy”

Peace. Assurance. Hope. Strength.

contagious madness