With a Wink and a Smile and a Vial of Meth, I Took his Hand and we Walked through the Shadow of Death...

More and more frequently I am beginning to think of myself as a lump of clay. Never fundamentally one thing except something that can be moulded into every possible shape or form. Perhaps this means that I am like the water, constantly flowing, moving, changing. I have grown weary of the constant desire to please everyone around me. Fear is a powerful motivator. Taunting. Teasing. Always second guessing. Too scared that what I say will be the wrong thing. Surely I can't always be the only one making an effort. Yet I am. It is impossible to live up to the unrealistic expectations that are unceremoniously thrust upon me. My troubled mind is so clouded by the desperate need to hold together that which is rapidly slipping through my fingers that I can barely keep my head from toppling off my shoulders.This is a dangerous place to be in. I can feel it. I can sense myself tip-toeing closer to the edge of the abyss but there is nothing I can do to stop my perpetual descent.

There are fleeting moments of blissful oblivion. A poorly lit, smokey room filled with strangers. The smell of whiskey and stale cigarettes. The familiarity of my friends' faces, their infectious laughter. The heady seduction of the warm, golden liquid sliding down my throat and embracing my insides. The unbridled excitement of tasting his lips for the first time. I am ashamed to admit that this is my favorite part of being with someone. That shiver of anticipation at the temptation of the unknown, that which has not yet been conquered. The fear that the inevitable boredom will descend and spread until it consumes me will only come later.

Sex has become shrouded in shame. Done behind closed doors, in the dark, naked but unexposed. Leaving the scent of guilt lingering until it is scrubbed off under scalding water. Yet, the idea of another person's flesh against my own thrills me. A warm body to thaw the impenetrable facade.

And still here I sit. Constantly reapplying lip ice as if it will make a difference. My mind is a whirlpool of various streams of consciousness. I struggle to arrive at any semblance of coherence. If I have an essence I have yet to discover it.

Love & light,
M xx

Jumping Jack Flash

There are a lot of really crappy things that come with being an insomniac - the long hours spent angry and frustrated, tired but unable to sleep, and defeat - finally giving up and watching crappy late night TV - like a zombie, not really taking anything in. But there is one thing that, I, as a sleep-deprived neurotic, am privy to that most (well-rested) people aren't. 4am is the best time of the day. Just before the sun rises, when the world is still asleep and everything is completely still. There is a sort of eerie calm that washes over the world at this hour. It is almost like being suspended in a perfect moment in time that is completely unaware of past, future or even itself. And then you get to watch and hear the world wake up - which in the moment feels so magical that you almost can't believe it happens every 24 hours. First, the birds start to chirp, stretch their wings and shake their feathers. Second, the sky starts to lighten, so slowly at first that, unless you are really paying attention, you don't even notice it happening. Then begins the gentle hum of traffic in the distance, front doors swinging open and the voices of people starting their day. And just like that, it is as if that perfect moment of solitude never existed. That's why 4am is my favorite time of the day.

Love & light,
M xx

P.S.: Lovely photographs courtesy of my lovely dad :)

The Graduate

In the build up to Graduation Day I was haunted by mental images of me tripping and falling while walking across the stage. I could just picture myself sprawled in front of the Vice Chancellor and all the deans with my dress over my head. Now, this wasn't my first rodeo and my undergraduate graduation last year went by without a hitch, BUT my fears were completely validated because my track record for embarrassing myself at important events is pretty impressive. Allow me to illustrate with three stand out examples.

1.) When I was in primary school I sang in the choir. I was tall for my age (although I seem to have stopped growing since) and I was in the top row on the choir stand. We were singing at some celebration of excellence of some sort and there were a lot of teachers, parents and students as witnesses. I really don't know how it happened because you are supposed to be standing still, but somehow I fell off the choir stand. The choir had to stop singing and wait for me to climb back up onto the stand. I swear these things only happen to me.

2.) In junior school I played the recorder. Okay, so it's not the most bad ass instrument but I was very good at it and eventually redeemed myself by moving on to the piano which is much cooler. (And also, Jethro Tull are really awesome and their music is all about the flute, which is basically an upgrade of the recorder, so there). Anyway, because I was very talented at playing the recorder, my music teacher arranged for me to play a solo at yet another celebration of excellence or prize-giving or some event where everyone was serious, dressed smartly and there were a lot of witnesses. So there I was, one of the shyest, nerdiest kids you could ever imagine, playing a solo piece in front of this massive (well, it probably wasn't that big, but in my mind it was the size of the Super Bowl) audience. And then a gust of wind (which I have no idea where it came from because we were indoors) blew my sheet music off the stand and onto the floor. I had to stop playing mid-song and retrieve my book off the floor, relocate the page the song was on, and start again. Floor swallow me up now.

3.) I decided to join the ballroom dancing society in high school. It was a lot of fun and every year, all the schools in town that offered ballroom dancing got together to plan a Ballroom Ball. It was all very exciting. We dressed up in these big ball gowns, had our hair and make up professionally done and slipped our feet into the most gorgeous heels (the girls, not the boys). Anyway, it was a very glamorous and elegant affair. One year the ball was held at one of the other schools which had a massive foyer with a considerable sized flight of stairs leading into the hall. So when we entered the hall we had to walk down these stairs in front of everyone else either entering or milling around the foyer. And let me tell you, it was packed when I walked in. There I am, entering the foyer and walking down the stairs in my beautiful puffy dress, and then I slip. And slide, yes slide, down the remaining stairs. My dress?? Over my head. And so I'm lying at the bottom of the stairs with my dress over my head and everyone is completely silent and staring at me. I have two options. I can either laugh, or cry. I decided to laugh, at which point I think I heard an audible sigh of relief from the on lookers and someone came over to help me up. Inside I was crying with humiliation.

So, as you can see, I had perfectly good reason for being nervous about walking across the stage at Honours Graduation. And the shoes I wore didn't exactly help because they are pretty high and very uncomfortable (by the time it was turn to be capped I couldn't feel my toes anymore) but they were the only ones I could find to match my beautiful vintage dress so I sucked it up. But, to my pleasant surprise, everything proceeded without a hitch and it was an amazing feeling to hear them call my name. I guess hard work does pay off after all and I now have my Honours degree. Now just to get through Masters...and then try to change the world :)

What is your proudest achievement?? :)

Love & light,
M xx

P.S. Lovely photos of my friends and I taken by my equally lovely dad :)