Tuesday, November 23, 2010

#26 Sick cycle carousel

Artist: Lifehouse
Song: Sick Cycle Carousel 

These lyrics articulate so much...

If shame had a face I think it would kind of look like mine
If it had a home would it be my eyes
Would you believe me if I said I'm tired of this
Well here we go now one more time

'Cause I try to climb your steps
I try to chase you down
I try to see how low I can get down to the ground
I try to earn my way
I try to tame this mind
You better believe that I am trying to beat this

So when will this end
It goes on and on
Over and over and over again
Keep spinning around I know that it won't stop
Till I step down from this for good

I never thought I'd end up here
Never thought I'd be standing where I am
I guess I kind of thought that it would be easier than this
I guess I was wrong now one more time

'Cause I try to climb your steps
I try to chase you down
I try to see how low I can get down to the ground
And i try to earn my way
I try to tame this mind
You better believe that I am trying to beat this,

So when will this end
It goes on and on
Over and over and over again
Keep spinning around I know that it won't stop
Till I step down from this

Sick cycle carousel, this is a sick cycle, yeah
Sick cycle carousel
This is a sick cycle yeah

Saturday, November 20, 2010

#25 Ring of fire

I've recently discovered that burning bridges never gets you very far - I'm not talking about myself here just someone I know. There is nothing more humbling than crawling back to sed person and trying to rebuild something you decided to smash out of arrogance or fear - I have also discovered that usually you do end up crawling back either out of circumstance or regret or even obligation. It's been interesting to watch...  it's nice learning someone else's lesson, saves me making an idiot of myself. Keep your bridges, don't fall into a ring of fire - especially one you lit, 'cos it burns burns burns.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

#24 How old is too old?

I was just sitting outside watching the teenage boy next door jumping on their trampoline and it occurred to me... how old is too old to jump on a trampoline? It would be strange to see a 49 year old business man bobbing up and down over the fence, but then why is that more strange than seeing an 80 year old man playing Monopoly? (great game by the way). Twister on the other hand would be another story. 

Recently I rented Disney's Beauty & the Beast and loved every minute of it, I put it on my Facebook status and was amazed to see how many people like and know the words to the movie. Sure, Belle is quite a fox and maybe chicks dig Aladdin's pubescent chest... the thing is, the subject of Disney has never come up in conversation, apart from the fact that every child cried when Mufasa died. Is it wrong to like The Little Mermaid or Hercules? But strangely enough if you know the words to 'Colours of the Wind' you're a prissy - actually that's true. But I think that every one deep down as an affinity to the old Disney movies but just keep it in the closet with R Kelly. 

Anyway, how old is too old to like the things you did when you were growing up? A part of me still wants to watch Care Bears and He-Man, I still want to have water fights and hose people down, I still want Vics to be rubbed on my chest when I'm sick (keep that in mind future wifey), I still want to play go-home-stay-home and spot light. Actually one of the funnest nights of this year was going to Spookers Haunted Attraction where we ran through a forest with actors dressed in costumes trying to freak us out - it was hilarious! Especially when a dwarf dressed as Chucky came running towards us... I love dwarfs. 

So I have come to the conclusion that we are never too old to do the things that bring us joy - playing with dolls does not count... healthy things, not sick things lets just get that straight. Clearly Disney movies are full of American propaganda, but take it with a pinch of salt and a spoon full of sugar and it's great entertainment. Maybe I will hose down the teenager next door...

Monday, November 15, 2010

#23 If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master,
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
Rudyard Kipling 

Friday, November 12, 2010

#22 It still hurts

I've been missing my family recently. There's no particular reason, it comes in waves. I've been having dreams about my family and my siblings. Dreams are great like that, you get to see people you don't get to see. 

Sometimes when I see mums around I automatically think "those kids are so lucky". I served this lady 5 weeks ago I think and she was so similar to my own mother it was very strange - she had similar features, long black hair, had a similar accent and mannerisms. It was really disconcerting. Part of me really liked serving and talking to her while the other part wanted to smack her in the head and scream "Why???". As much as I have worked through my mother issues through counseling and a lot of tears, it is still a sore spot. I guess I'm writing about it because I needed to vent. I get butterflies when caller ID says it's mum calling and the weak and shallow conversations we have I could do without - deep down I am glad she calls, just wish we had 'something' to talk about. It's this horrible discourse, I love her and want to know her VS I don't really know her and vice versa and there is too much to catch up on to even get to a normal mother and son relationship status. I have seen my mum 3 times in the last 20 years. She still asks me if I am studying and I finished my degree 2 years ago - and she doesn't have dementia just a bad case of vanity. It doesn't usually affect me, just sometimes. I'd be lying if I said it doesn't make me melancholic whenever I go round to friends houses and see the interaction with their mum. 
All this aside, I have a great dad and a great step mum and the coolest younger siblings. I don't focus on this part of my story, but I do know it's there and to ignore its reality would be damaging. 

What I have learned in my modest 26 years is that you must acknowledge you have mould on the cheese before you can remove it from the block - and sometimes getting that knife out of the drawer and putting it against the cheese takes a lot longer than you'd think or like it to. 

I've been holding the knife for years and I have no idea when I'm going to cut it out. 

Sunday, November 7, 2010

#21 Post dream

I had a really vivid dream last night. I was at my parent's house in Christchurch and the family and three men were having a meeting on the back lawn. It felt so real and the situation is so far away from anything I have been thinking about recently. After the conclusion of the meeting I walked into the house to my old bedroom where my mum was sitting, I started telling her what happened and broke down, then she started crying. When I woke up I was so angry about what happened, but then I realised I was in bed. The dream has been with me all day.

It's funny, because I have been waiting for a subject to write about for awhile (not for this blog but for a short story). I'm not particularly airy fairy about dreams, especially mine, recently mine have been about work. But this dream was just so vivid, I could 'see' everything, hear everything, feel the tears and see my mum's reaction - and the fact that I haven't forgotten the dream makes me wonder... also it was really nice to see my parents again.

Anyway, I am excited. I am going to write. I have a plot and I think it's going to be a good one. 

Monday, November 1, 2010

#20 JBB

He ran the Auckland marathon yesterday and it's no easy task to run that far. I'm really proud of him. He always does that - things that make me proud to be his friend.