MySpace Blog Posts 2006

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

it fits ok.
Current mood:grateful

I was just sent this in one of those “quote a day emails”

it seemed to sum up most of everything I have said in the last five blog entires so I had to add it of course

“I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.
by Agatha Christie”

it seems to fit I think

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

yes its still boxing day
Current mood: awake

I have so much swirling around in my head right now. I just need to write. or type if we want to get specific.

I’ve been at my mum and dads for dinner. I ate too much. I feel full in the best kind of way. I ate mangos. that smelt like love.

we laughed and we argued and I love them all. my beautiful precious family.

we watched miracle on 34th st. the original origianal in black and white. I watched it with my mummy and daddy and my aunty fi whose husband died two weeks ago.

and it made me remember what albert einstein said

“the tagedy of lfe is what dies inside of a man while he still lives”

and thats not the way I want to live my life.

I begin to realise all over again I need to start taking my own advice. tomorrow will only be what I make it.

I will only want it if I want to want it.

my brothers were there and I hugged them even though they hate being hugged. my brothers friend was there. two of my aunts and the husband that is still alive. their kids. my grandma.

I hugged my aunty fi when I arrived. I felt her shaking in my arms. she felt so small. I ache for her.

we laughed about silly things. the kids arguing. zach punching my cousin lauren. zach saying “oh man” when he broke his toy. my brothers cool hats and how silly I look wearing them. my brother looking like a PI in great grandads hat.

those moments are life. they are happiness.

life doesnt regret itself.

I’m listening to Keith Urban for anyone who cars to know. and matchbox twenty who I have fallen in love with all over again this week.

keith just said “time stands still for no-one”

no-one

I read a book. a beautiful book called song of an exile. (which inspired my blog entry of the same name – yes ) it talked about measuring time. the ticking of a clock. and an hourglass. how we can control that. if we dont turn it over then time isnt being counted. time in a glass.

I will stop counting.

the minutes in a day

the heartbeats in a moment

the years in my life

I am so young. so young. do you see how young I am. with my beating heart.

my father has laughter in his eyes. he is the best kind of responsible adult. the kind that is still a boy. my father cant sing. he cant dance. he cant play an instrument. but there is music in that man. I hear it every time I see his eyes dancing with laughter.

friendships change

they grow. or fold themselves away into neat little boxes with tags to remember the contents. sometimes they are nothing more than words on a piece of paper.

its ok to let go

it doesnt mean you dont care. it doesnt mean your love has gone away. it means the journey isnt over. you have to let go of things to move forward. even when it hurts.

yes I’m crazy. yes I think too much. yes I will be happy today and wallow in self pity tomorrow. and yes most of all I am irritating and unreliable and just plain loud.

but fuck it feels good

thankyou to those people who wrote their special memories of me in my comments page. esp shaylee and tam. both of yours made me cry in the best possible way.

I remeber dancing the waltz in the mall and the rotunda at 12 o’clock at night. the only sober one there. and how good that felt to be alive and not give a damn that every uptight moron can see me.

the night is the most beautiful place to be alive in.

in the dark we all look the same.

in the unremitting night.

has anyone read that book with snigger james. is that what its called. I cant remember. I thought it was precious when I was 13.

there is red and white lego all over the floor at my feet. I’m deciding what to build.

and when I asked you inside for a drink. that wasnt really what I was asking. its a riddle. I read it in a book and it reminds me

we are changing the world.

one person at a time.

I like to read.

even when the words are too blurry and big and fucken profound for me to understand.

I like to read.

write your soul down word for word. – matchbox twenty.

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

where should I go? who should I be?
Current mood: happy

dunno whats with me today. just written three blog entries one after the other. this is actually the third. anyone that is taking the time to read these possibly needs to get a life. unless you love me in which case all is forgiven.

I’ve started writing the story of my life. very big-headed of me I know. I doubt I will ever let any one read it though so dont worry.

its kinda personal. as those things do tend to be.

weird

weird

weird

weird

anyhow

I said to my friend today. what should I do with my life? where should I go? what should I be?

and

I saw how I try to make myself feel guilty for enjoying my life. I am not going anywhere right now. anywhere. I have no life plan. no job. no boyfriend. I dont own a house. or a fancy car. I’m not in uni. or doing volunteer work.

but

I saw that I love my life. this life. I am happy. I keep thinking that I should have a purpose. I keep trying to find a direction. not because I want one but becasue I feel like I should want one.

so laugh with me. I am laughing. I am happy.

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

christmas
Current mood: contemplative

we all know I’m not religious.

but I love christmas. not for the presents or even all the pretty lights.

for the bbqs we have toghether.

the board games my family plays after a good meal.

the easy friendly banter.

the rush til the big day and then the exhausted joy of that day as we share it with those we love

looking back on the precious memories we’ve built that year. and the ones we intend to build the next year.

I’m picky about my friends. more picky than many people realise. I dont think I’m better than you. I’m scared. of how easy it is for people to give us joy. pain. all the layers that make a life.

thankyou for sharing my journey. those of you that have. and those of you that one day will.

restful boxing day all

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

what I want
Current mood: indescribable

I want to dance with my bare feet on the red red earth. to the sounds of drums and laughter. and the real life we let slip by.

I want to feel the tears on my lips. the laughter in my eyes. and whirl around and around until I am too dizzy to stand. too enraptured to stop.

I want to lift my voice into the stars over the glittering firelight in your eyes.

I want to just be

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

song of my exile
Current mood: calm

it takes a while. a good long while

I’m falling again

through myself. through my memories.

I always am

one way or another

trying to find that soft place she told me about

that safe place for me to lay

and my hair streams out behind me

a red and brown halo

like blood and earth

back to the beginning

I am an exile in my hearts own land

a legacy of white mans desire to conquer, to subjugate and to own

is that now his very own children

belong nowhere

because I cannot be black, brown, yellow or purple

but I will never be white

my insides sing to a different rhythm

a deep primitive song that beats upon my ribs

it resonates beneath my skin

keeping me apart

keeping me separate

we are all lost from our beginnings

all the children of this land

searching for a way to belong

Sunday, December 10, 2006

i was thinking about the past…the journey i made to place my feet here once again….
Current mood: thoughtful

What does the Riverland mean to me? How do you even say that? How do you put a life onto paper. The taste of lemon lime sorbet. That’s what the Riverland means to me. The smell of a hug well meant. The feel of a comfy couch with the indent perfectly melded to your butt. I think that’s what the Riverland means to me.

It feels like coming home. Like the best kind of safe. There are people here who will say its boring. No opportunities. Maybe.

What there is here- a beautiful river. That sways gently to the sounds of our lives. The tears we cry. The laughter we breathe. It smell like hope here because I want it to . I want to believe I can make my own futures. Maybe I cant. It doesn’t even really matter. All that matters is that I believe.

There’s still an echo of pain here for me. Something from my past I just can never seem to let go of. It’s the eyes I can see laughing at me. All the daggers of words that slide so neatly into my skin. They made me feel small and I let them. I let them because I was small. I made myself small because I was too afraid to let myself shine.

I surprise myself with the good memory of that fractured past. There were sweet things. One sweet thing at least. He had pretty eyes. And a dorky smile. I could fall in love with a boy like that all over again. I remember the feel of his smile in my eyes. How it lit me up inside so I couldn’t see their eyes laughing with their pointy teeth. That’s what a boy can do to a girl. He can make her forget all the layers of her world. He can make it so there is only one layer that really matters

It all became a blur when I left. Mostly a painful blur I couldn’t bear to recall. I glossed over the good. So I didn’t have to look too deeply at the trouble I was getting myself into. That’s what you do when you’re halfway through a mistake. You grit your teeth and smile and pretend you meant the custard to be blue. It doesn’t really matter as much when it tastes like crap but looks beautiful . but when it looks like crap it doesn’t matter what it tastes like. Nothing is going to make you want to put it in your mouth. So I was running. Far and fast. And I didn’t look back.

It was only later. When all the pieces fell so gently in to my hands. When I had the time to cry and look in the mirror and see two halves instead of a dozen pieces. That’s when I started smelling how good life was. When I started to remember all the things I’d locked away. And the river started to pull me in again. I could say I’m like a bird upon the water or even like a boat, a little dingy. But I’m not. More like a plastic bag floating to the sea. I don’t really belong there at all but the river will let me in just the same. What the fuck does that even mean? I have no idea.

Only that when I left I might have left the memories but the feelings were still there inside of me. Waiting for a smell, a taste, a moment to set them free inside my head again. And now they are. I’m ok with that.

I found a safe place to rest. A soft place to fall. A bright place to love me. I found it all without even realising I needed it. And now I have it . and that’s what the Riverland means to me.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

I’ve got my doubts and what if I’m right??
Current mood: cynical

so, when does everything start to figure itself out? or does that never happen and we all just keep swimming aroudn in circles for the rest of our lives?

why is it that you have to be over 35 for anyone to take you seriously? or is that just me coz I refuse to confrom?? grumble grumble.

ok, ok, I know I’m just having a whinge. we all need to have a vent sometimes and get these things off our chest!!!

mwah!! x

Thursday, November 02, 2006

I write often obviously- the river haunts my dreams

This is the way it sounds inside my head – it’s a broken recording of a broken tap…..

Drip.Drip.Drip

Tap.Tap.Tap

Screech

It’s the water in my blood

Drip.Drip.Dripping

Is this what it fels like?

What I feel like?

Over and over

This is who I am

Play me

Drip. Drip

I’m dripping away my dreams

Into the sink of the world

Keep spinning that record

Keep dripping away

I’m the Murray and my dreams have turned to salt. And the record skips and the salt pours out

This is me

Thursday, November 02, 2006

the past has more power than we ever know…..this is my almost beginning
Current mood: peaceful

People fall into places

Hands across frozen faces

Glass shatters in the dark

A lonely teardrop on the side

Memory lives in peoples eyes

Closed over with grief

And fallen into forgetfulness

Remember how to laugh

Lift your voice through the pain

Hands thunder down

Faces scream inside locked rooms

Words follow them down empty halls

This is how far we’ve fallen

How much we’ve let go

It all falls into nothing

Moments tick into forever

A familiar face inside a memory

She has her fathers eyes

Sits inside her mothers silence

She is the could have been

The moments without a mothers tears and a fathers broken dreams

We ruin our own hearts

Follow past the moment

We know how to hold onto

Children have such small hands

Such real shadows

Thursday, November 02, 2006

just a story
Current mood: creative

Sit down to write a story of memories and lonely people and masquerade balls

Not so long ago there was a woman with a make-believe face crying into the sleeve of a make-believe man. I wonder how hard she cried, how deep she loved. How many memories she treasures. Lips of red, eyes like sapphires to match the sparkle on her fingers, she loved to look in magazines and dream of stick insects with pretty make-up and bony hips. Her thighs were creased with worry, her fridge full of doubt. The mailman left memories to pin to her heart. She left a sticker on the door, saying, “please come inside”. Home is sweeter than the heavens, more true than the bible. There was a man across the street, loved a memory of a girl, with eyes the colour of the marbles she had given him and lips stained with the juice of berries from the trees they had climbed. We lock ourselves in towers. We burn down the stairs. I wonder what their unspoken betrayal was. The little boy’s marbles? They were green. Of course. She ate herself to death. He cried himself to sleep softly into her grave.

Thursday, November 02, 2006

we were so young then. marc and leonie do you remember?
Current mood: melancholy

We were all so young then. I don’t think we ever meant to hurt each other…. Well maybe when we were angry. And then we threw words…. like they were eggs and we were all so cocky thinking we would never drop them but we did and it made such a mess of all our hearts. Such a waste of young lives, young hopes, young loves, young dreams.