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More writing I found in my journals.

Vastness.

Dreams of places we can never reach.

Sustainable volatility is impossible.

We are too volatile, we are too fragile, we are human.

Reality is harsh, so we dream.

The grass is always greener in a place that doesn't exist.

We will be replaced with ones and zeros.

We are limited by centuries of ignorance.

Vastness.

Who will survive?

Written by Rachael Longshaw-Park

Apparently studying AI, accompanied with some wine produces this cheerful piece.

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Writing found amongst my things.

I'm really not good at being consistent with this thing am I?

It ebbs and flows, I guess.

Anyway, Honours at AU has been a journey, and it has eaten up all my time. I'm on my study break right now and since Chesney and I got the apartment to ourselves, like a real grown up couple, I've been sorting through all my copious books/documents/journals and I've stumbled across bits and bobs of writing I have done over the years.

So I'm going to write some up. Some aren't that great, some are okay, some are a bit silly, but it's nice to relieve this little snap shots into my head from the past few years.

CUE ANGST.

Excerpt No. 1

Life is full of cliches, which is odd really, I mean we spend so much time scrutinizing the cliches displayed in the movies we watch and the books we read. Like... girl meets boy, boy meets boy, falling in love against all odds, or finding that love letter just in time before your lover gets in a taxi for the airport to never be seen again! (Yeah right, phones do exist...)

We all have adopted an underlining cynicism in our critique of both fictional and real love. We seem to be so sure these things would never really happen. Nice guys don't finish last, everything is a coincidence and the airport security will tazer you if you even look at them wrong let alone chase someone past their little metal detector... Nothing is MEANT to be. Nada, nothing, zero and zilch, and that's final.

That's what I believed, and even in the face of 'love' told myself.

Then you meet them. The one as it were. Another cliched phrase that makes you a bit sick to say with all sincerity, but that fact is even if you don't end up happily ever after, even if it's a cataclysmic event whenever you try to be together, it does not change that in those moments they were the only one, they were the one for you, and no one, and nothing will ever change that.

Cliches are real for a reason.

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Memories of New Years Eve with friends made me smile.

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This is a dress I bought today in Melbourne, a dress I never would have dared to buy, or even try on prior to now. It's designed to be provocative; it's a shade of pink, for crying out loud; it's something I definitely would not wear around my mother...

Yet, I'm 23 years old and I deserve to be a bit risque in my outfit and feel fucking sexy because of it. Let's face it, we're only gonna be as pert and pretty as we are now, regardless of how much we argue against and have been innately indoctrinated into the male dominatied societal implications on feminine beauty and age, BUT we all feel invincible and beautiful at such a youthful yet, strangely adult stage. We know, we are young and we bounce back, we know we are perky and peppy and full of energy, and we deserve to experience that.

That ^ was a prelude to a point I will make. So, I bought this dress... It takes a lot for me to try on clothes because usually, I cry. I get angry at myself for eating pizza, I yell at myself for not being a committed enough actress because I can't shrink the bingo wing arm fat sadly my wonderful female genes has bestowed upon me enough for my frame to actually appear as a size 8 rather than a size 12 on screen. Yet, I tried it on.

And it was beautiful. I fell in love. I finally felt like I looked like a girl on a screen BUT I didn't feel like I looked lanky and tanned like I had sought after in futility (not that that's a negative but highlighting my frame can't magically warp into that...), but I looked healthy and happy and curvy in all the right ways. And that, was a first.  A beautiful fucking first (sorry mum), and a long awaited first.

I believe that every woman, young or old, whatever colour, creed, religion, size or shape should have the opportunity to wear (or not wear) something that unleashes her own sexual confidence.

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Valentines from my gorgeous man. Definitely makes the day a happy one.

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NEW GIRL - Jess and Nick get it together

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A letter from my lover.

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So, today a retarded amount of k fry made me happy. It's the little things.

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So, I'm doing the 100 happy day challenge, this is the premise and the rules :

Every day submit a picture of what made you happy! 

It can be anything from a meet-up with a friend to a very tasty cake in the nearby coffee place, from a feeling of being at home after a hard day to a favor you did to a stranger. 

#100happyday challenge is for you - not for anyone else.

It is not a happiness competition or a showing off contest. If you try to please / make others jealous via your pictures - you lose without even starting. Same goes for cheating.

SO - Everyday I have post a picture via the medium I choose (tumblr) of a photo of something that made me happy. It's not so presumtuous that I will be happy all day err'day for 100 days, but to take note of the things that make you happy in a day and be grateful for those moments, and I hope that in doing this I will stray away from the feelings of negativity that so often take over our lives.

This picture was taken at Merri Creek in Melbourne as I took Gemma (the gorgeous pup) for a walk. She, at this point, was frolicking in the water with an oversized branch at least three times her size.

Personal note: I've been in Melbourne for three weeks now, I have a casual retail job lined up but no work, and therefore no money, I'm living on savings and holiday pay and I'm stuck indoors everyday. I feel guilty every time I spend money as I know I'm limited on funds but I also feel incredibly trapped sitting indoors everyday. I'm so ready to get out into the world and meet new people and work my butt off in this city but opportunity hasn't arisen yet. So, I'm using this as a platform to keep myself appreciative of the opportunity I have been given, which is being in Melbourne under the host of my best friend Rachael and her partner Morgan, and their flatmate Kate, which is taking the leap and moving country, which is being brave and stepping out into a new economy, a new country, almost completely alone and without my darling partner who is still in Auckland, whom I miss everyday, an also my friends back home, who have recently really presented themselves to me in my absence. I'm a lucky girl, and I'll be damned if tedium and boredom thrust me into a downward spiral of negativity. So, here we go. 100 days. Bring it on. 

:)

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Wouldn't it be easier if we were the only two? Yet others creeping hands grip your arms and twist my gut, and remind me it is not so.

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My first poetry reading - and a poem :)

So yesterday I read at my first poetry live! It was incredibly nerve-wrecking, to the point I was half convinced my dinner had given me food poisoning, and the gurgling in my stomach was a result of rotten chicken, not nerves.

Thankfully I didn't pass out and vomit on the floor in a cold sweat, I waited patiently for my turn, getting more and more worked up in the company I kept, watching each poet get up before me. Each one clearly earning the title more than I could with my tiny, little poems held in my shaking hands.

Anyway, I did my thing. I read a poem I've posted on here previously and a new, rough poem I wrote the other day, which I will now show to you!

It's like forcing a key into a lock that doesn't fit,

You must have changed them whilst I was out because I don't remember agreeing to this.

It's like waking up in your best friend's bed,

Or drinking coffee after brushing your teeth,

Everything is so similar, yet so strange,

I'm just short out of your reach.

It's like looking through someone else's glasses,

Or sitting in someone else's seat,

I'm living a life I don't quite recognize,

I don't like this person I see.

- Rachael J L-P

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Well this is... what it is.

For the first time in a long time, my wants and needs are simple, but I do not have the power to grab my happiness and clutch it to my breast.Instead I can only pull away from what I want and force myself to change my own mind. Make distractions by bettering myself, but also trying to constantly ignore the gaping hole that exists in my life now.

How do you do that? How do you tell yourself, no, train yourself not to love?

I'd rather not love at all than be stuck in this unrequited realm of bullshit.

(I feel like this post would also be relevant if the thing I had lost in my life was my ability to eat pizza.)

R x

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Patchwork heart.

You scratched an itch but I need to be fixed,

So lend me a stitch for these broken seams.

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Boop-a-boop-a-doop and angst.

I prefer the white noise

it’s better than isolating the image of your face

that burns in my mind.

(First part of the song, I wrote instead of doing everything I should be doing.)

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And then there was one.

Here I sit. Ignoring gleeful ghosts who taunt at me. Flaunting their hope, like they're trying to goad with me, watching me tremble in holding composure... for I am alone at the back of this theatre, cracking and breaking in the face of your act, the facts that have passed and went by so fast - until I am here... watching these ghosts playing out this memory. Glances and giggling, gushing with wanting, flushed faces and palms - all of this haunting me.

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This is just, well just low. Doesn't matter how vixen like she was being, under 16 is NOT OKAY. You are the one responsible for stepping the fuck away. She is a child. Also this is a nice summary of the point surrounding this - "The point is the prevailing wind of misogyny still blowing through everything, that erupts in public with cases like this so you can see it spelled out loud and clear. It sustains women's lower pay and the objectifying of women - often very young - in the pictures of them or in the porn read by men and young boys that makes girls shave their public hair for fear of being thought disgusting for not fitting the porn imagery. Girls are bullied for their looks, called slags if they act like boys. You know, don't you, how the wind blows hard against women still."